


Bloodwatch

by APortInAnyStorm



Category: Sword Art Online (Anime & Manga), ソードアート・オンライン - 川原礫 | Sword Art Online - Kawahara Reki
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-01-16
Updated: 2021-01-24
Packaged: 2021-03-14 08:41:47
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 4
Words: 24,889
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28792611
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/APortInAnyStorm/pseuds/APortInAnyStorm
Summary: Only those who willingly plunge into the darkness will be able to find the light they seek. This is the story of one particular boy's brush with death - a moment of tragedy which turns his life upside down, and sets him on a journey to ensure that none of those who play the game shall fall by the hand of another player ever again.
Kudos: 3





	1. Overture

**_A/N: This series is updated more frequently[here.](https://www.fanfiction.net/s/13778747/1/Bloodwatch)_ **

* * *

_The forests of the 43 rd floor are a danger to unsuspecting players in multiple ways. For one, the gryphons that inhabit the canopy, though typically not overly belligerent towards creatures that lurk on the forest floor, possess sharp claws and an uncanny ability to fly through the narrow spaces between the tight-knit tree trunks, meaning that should one ever have its eye on you, running is rarely a viable option. Should they develop a taste for human flesh, as they occasionally do, one’s only option is to make a stand and hope to get a blow in whilst the gryphon attacks with lethal diving runs. Deaths by gryphon are uncommon, but not an outright impossibility._

_For two, even stronger monsters than gryphons make their home on the ground far below._

_Arachnids, giant snakes, fire ants – the 43 rd floor has one of the most impressive examples of in-game biodiversity amongst any of the floors. Yet the most perilous of those specimens do not come in the form of four-legged beasts or winged threats, but in a more uncomfortably familiar, human form. They are arguably a player’s greatest enemy, because they often don’t seem much like enemies at all. But give them an inch, and they’ll take a mile – and your life._

_There is a small cottage situated in the middle of the forest, several yards away from a clearing in the thicket. The cottage is derelict and unassuming at first glance, but on closer inspection one sees that the walls of the cottage are doubly reinforced with wood and stone, not only to deter attacks from the more daring of beasts, but also to prevent most sounds from leaking out from within. There are no windows, only a door latched shut by a brass bolt. Far too secure of a proposition for anyone who merely wishes to live there – if, of course, that is all there is to the cottage._

_A faint scream emanates from inside. The scream is chiefly one of pain, but more significantly, it is one of fear. Fear of the end; fear of what comes after. A scream that is heard by none but those that stand before the one from whose mouth it is emitted, and by the figure who has now materialized outside the cottage’s entryway._

_The figure is clad in robes of pure red, their vibrant color marred only by a single white cross stitched near the hem. In the figure’s hands are grasped a pair of daggers, weapons that are best suited to fighting in confined spaces both due to their short length and their ability to be thrown should the need arise. Their mithril wrist-guards conceal further blades that can be revealed with the press of a button installed in the palm of their gloves. The figure’s features are hidden by a mask and a hood, leaving only their crimson eyes exposed._

_The figure breathes, taking in the crisp forest air. Then, they raise their right foot, and aim it squarely at the center of the door._

_The door is battered down with a swift kick. As the dust settles, the figure rapidly analyzes the situation inside the cottage. Three men are sat around the middle of the first room. The markers that hover above the heads of each man are orange. Good, the figure thinks to themselves. No repercussions, then, should any of those men die._

_The man closest to the door gets up, but before he can reach for the sword on his belt, a knife rockets across the room, striking him squarely in the forehead. The man falls backwards, his health bar shrinking to zero in a matter of moments, his body exploding and vanishing before it can hit the ground. The other two yell frantically and hastily unsheathe their weapons, but by then the figure is already upon them, wrist blades primed and ready. The figure curls their fingers and slams the blades into the chests of the men, pushing them to the ground as they splutter and cough from the shock of the impact. Their bodies follow the lead of the first man’s corpse, splitting into millions of tiny pieces, any trace of their existence in the game permanently erased._

_The door to the next room is forced open, and a fourth man emerges. He is unarmored, but wields a giant iron mace that he now swings as he charges towards the figure. The figure, unperturbed by the incoming danger, ducks under the man’s wild swings and plunges his dagger into the man’s abdomen. Two more thrusts to the chest follow, and the man is gone as quickly as he arrived._

_The room from which that man appeared is slightly smaller than the first, and contains nothing but a broken table and a wooden bed. Upon the bed lies a girl, her armor in tatters, her arms and legs tied to the corners of the bed, leaving her splayed across the mattress like a hunted animal being prepared for a feast._

_The figure cuts the ropes tying the girl down and helps her to her feet. In her shock, she can hardly speak, but fortunately still retains the use of her limbs. She eventually manages to limp out of the cottage with the help of the figure, and together they return to the 43 rd floor’s teleport gate._

_The figure tells her she will be looked after until she recovers. She breaks into tears, and asks how she can ever thank the figure. There is nothing to thank, the figure replies. It is their sworn duty._

_A duty reinforced not only by oath, but also by past experience._

_Their red robes flutter in the breeze. The single word hidden beneath the white cross is uncovered._

_“Bloodwatch”._


	2. The Road to Hell

"Caenor, come here."

The black-haired boy of modest build and unassuming stature departed from his station near the bookshelf, heading towards the desk in the center of the room. "Yes?"

"I want to ask you about your report on the raiding party you led two days ago." Asuna, his guild team leader and vice-commander, pushed her flowing maroon hair behind her ears and pointed at one of the many pages scattered in front of her. "The one on the 28th floor. You mentioned that you were cornered by a large pack of Blood Wolves, and almost lost your lives."

"Yes."

"And then here, you mentioned that you were helped by a stranger, who decimated the pack almost without any help. Yet the stranger is not mentioned again in the rest of the report. Why is that?"

"Well…" Caenor scratched his head. "The stranger disappeared before we could thank them."

"Disappeared?"

"Yes. They simply left without saying a word. We were too busy killing the remnants of the Blood Wolf pack to chase after them."

"That is strange, but not unusual. Still, a player of their skill could be worth meeting. Defeating an entire pack of Blood Wolves is no small feat, and as large a guild as we are, we lack people with the sufficient skill to change the tide of a boss fight on their own. Clearers, in other words. That's not a slight on your abilities, of course, but unfortunately that is the harsh truth."

"I understand. But how should we attempt to seek out this stranger?"

"Do you remember anything about what they were wearing? Or the weapons they were using?"

"Hm…" Caenor blew out a breath as he cast his thoughts back to the battle. "They had on a blue cape with the insignia of an eagle emblazoned on the back, and they used a scimitar paired with a square buckler. That's all I remember."

"The eagle insignia means that the cape was made in the town of Taft, on the 11th floor. One of the workshops there is run by a pair of siblings who imprint the symbol of an eagle with outstretched wings on everything they make."

"Outstretched wings." Caenor's eyes lit up. "Yes, I believe the eagle had wings."

"Then that should be it. Make for the workshop this afternoon, and see if you can find any clues. Bring Seki and Ferramo with you; tell them to get ready. You should depart before the bell strikes two."

Caenor nodded and left the room.

Asuna leaned into her chair and stared at the ceiling, where a brass chandelier hung from a network of steel chains, before turning her gaze to the crystalline rapier stashed on the rack beside the window.

Many times had she drawn and sheathed the weapon; many times had beasts and monsters fallen before her. But, as the green cursor that floated above her head seemed to indicate, she had yet to point her blade towards a fellow player in non-dueling circumstances.

She often wondered if she would have to do so eventually. It was not as though Asuna had never argued – or even dueled – with her guildmates and acquaintances. Yet even if Asuna were defending herself, any hostile action towards a player with a green cursor would result in her own cursor turning orange – a death sentence for those who were not well-versed in the ways by which to revert one’s cursor color. Having an orange cursor meant suffering attacks from players and NPCs alike, leading many such players to exile themselves and form their own guilds, roaming the wastes and preying on the unsuspecting.

The most infamous of these “orange guilds” was the group known as Laughing Coffin, renowned as the only “red” guild in Aincrad for its blatant disregard of the ramifications that a changed cursor color might bring. Unlike most other orange players, the members of Laughing Coffin not only voluntarily became criminals, but also desired the lifestyle that came with being an orange cursor player. They reasoned that if such acts of malice as killing and looting were allowed in the game, then theirs should be considered an equally legitimate method of playing.

While it was convenient to brush Laughing Coffin aside as a horde of demons, devoid of any humanity, the growing ranks of Laughing Coffin and other orange guilds made that facade increasingly difficult to maintain. Asuna’s duty as a vice-commander of the Knights of the Blood thus involved not only leading raids and devising strategies, but also ensuring that the mental health of her subordinates remained at a manageable level.

Nevertheless, despite her lofty status within the guild, Asuna still felt that she was not best suited to the role of listener. That was more appropriate for someone like her partner, the infamous Black Swordsman, who hid a gentle and caring personality behind an aloof and reticent exterior.

That dichotomy was one of the many reasons she had fallen in love with Kirito in the first place.

She held a finger to her lips, remembering the warmth of Kirito’s hands when they had been joined together the night before. A faint blush spread across her cheeks, and an unwitting smile stretched her lips upwards.

“I wonder what Kirito is up to?” she mused.

Caenor fidgeted as he waited atop the marble steps that led downwards from the door behind him. He had told Seki and Ferramo, two lay members of his team and his closest friends in the game, to be ready by the double striking of the bell, but ten minutes had elapsed since the clock had tolled, and the pair of them were still nowhere to be found. Just as he considered re-entering the guild headquarters to look for them, the door opened, and a pair of flustered figures emerged from the shade.

"Sorry about the wait," panted Seki.

“What took you so long?” Caenor asked.

“I couldn’t find my daggers, so I had to borrow a short sword from the armory.”

“Aren’t your daggers being replaced? I remember you leaving them at the workshop on the 27th floor. You know, after the whole Blood Wolves thing.”

“Oh.” Seki put a hand to her mouth. “You’re right.”

Caenor shook his head. “Anyway. Ferramo, you ready?”

Ferramo nodded. “I got everything.”

“Let’s head out then.”

The trio made an odd and incongruous group by the Knights of the Blood’s standards. Seki was a petite, red-haired specimen, an adolescent like Caenor himself, with a slim frame and thin face to match. But what made her appear even smaller was the hulking figure who stood next to her, a large, heavyset, balding creature approaching thirty years of age whose square jaw barely jutted past his neck. Yet despite his in-game looks, Ferramo was probably the weakest of the trio in terms of actual combat. He could swing around a mace the size of Caenor's head, but nine times out of ten it would end up missing its intended target. For that reason, he was often deployed as a tank, and his chief duties in battle mainly entailed standing at the front and making himself as big of a nuisance as possible. Which, to Ferramo's credit, usually worked.

The three of them made their way to Granzam’s teleport plaza, which was located in the heart of the city. Granzam, renowned as the Steel City, was as uncompromising a settlement as you could get, with black and gray spires rising high above the streets, towering over those who bustled about beneath their shadows. Yet the high number of smiths and craftsmen that resided in Granzam meant that many players chose to make their homes there as well, so they might have easier access to repairs, upgrades, and all the other basic necessities an adventurer might need on their travels. The Knights of the Blood, seeking to capitalize on this phenomenon and boost their recruitment in the process, had been headquartered here since October of the previous year.

They soon arrived at the teleport plaza, where a large number of people were gathered. Some were waiting for their guilds to return; some were themselves recruiting new members; some were merely sitting about, basking in the filtered light of the hazy afternoon sun, taking in the noise.

Caenor stepped onto the teleport platform, followed by Seki and Ferramo. He reached out and made a swiping motion with his finger, which opened the game menu. An option to teleport, which would normally not be there, was now present at the bottom of the list.

“Taft, 11th floor,” he muttered to himself as he scrolled through the locations. “There we go.” He confirmed his selection, and watched as the world around him faded into black. When the light returned, he was in a more idyllic and serene setting, an environment more befitting the lower-level status of Taft, the black towers being replaced by small, quaint brick houses with roofs painted disparate shades of yellow and red.

“Here we are,” said Seki.

“Here we are,” repeated Caenor as he looked around. There were far fewer people here, as most of the players who had survived this far were on the higher floors, searching for bigger fish to fry. Those that remained here did so because they had purchased abodes in the town, or simply had never bothered to commit to the grind and continue to level themselves up.

A sign hanging from above the doorway of one of the buildings near the teleport gate caught his attention. It bore an eagle’s head with two wings splayed out on either side of it. “Oh, that’s convenient.” He pointed to the sign, and they walked towards the shop underneath it.

Their entry was greeted with the sound of hammers striking steel and the smell of an open fire searing molten metal. One of the smiths looked up from his anvil, threw his goggles unceremoniously onto the floor and slapped the countertop. “Can I help you?”

“I’m searching for a person who bought a cape made by your shop,” Caenor said.

“Many people have bought capes from our shop.” The smith wiped the dripping sweat off his brow and snorted. “We weave annealed brass fibers into the cloth so they can withstand dagger thrusts. Good for preventing backstabs. So, you’re gonna need to give me more information than that.”

“They used a scimitar and a square shield, around this big.” Caenor drew a square in the air with his fingertips.

“Now that you mention it, I remember someone like that. Not many scimitar users in Aincrad, and even less that use square shields. It’s usually a round buckler or a proper big shield for the stronger fellows out there. A bit like the one your friend there is using,” said the smith as he pointed to Ferramo. “The guy didn’t say much, but he said he was headed to the 60th floor.”

“When was that?”

“Three days ago. I don’t know what he’s doing there, but that floor is full of stone and iron golems. Maybe he wanted a new set of armor or something.”

“That’s very helpful. Thank you.” Caenor dropped a few Cor into the smith’s hands and made to leave.

“Be careful, lad. The 60th floor isn’t just famous for its golems.”

“What else is there?” Seki asked.

“Monsters that look like humans.” The smith leaned forward and dropped his voice to a whisper. “Player killers.”

* * *

The 60th floor was a far cry from even the already considerable gloom and imposing environs of Granzam, situated only five floors below. As a floor without a human settlement, the steps of the teleport gate led straight into the dirt, and beyond that, darkness.

“Maybe we should head back and ask Asuna what to do next,” mumbled Seki, who was visibly nervous, her hands clasped and shaking slightly.

“For a short jaunt like this? Come on.” Caenor patted his sword. “The golems here are manageable – we’re only a couple levels below them. We’ll avoid any real fighting if it makes you feel better. The moment we see a golem, we turn and run back to this teleport gate. Happy?”

Seki nodded, though judging by the intensity of her lip biting, she was still unsure. “That’s fine, I guess.”

They stepped gingerly off the safety of the stone platform and onto the soil. Caenor produced a lamp from his inventory and lit its flame. He had only brought enough fire crystals for about thirty minutes of illumination, so he would have to be frugal with its use. He had also neglected to bring teleport crystals – he had meant to replenish his supplies earlier in the day, but Asuna’s sudden assignment had distracted him enough for him to forget.

Caenor silently cursed his lack of foresight, but there was little he could do now. Not when he was the one who had made reassurances about their safety.

It would be alright, he told himself. Ten or fifteen minutes into their walk, he’d suggest that they turn back after having second thoughts. No harm done, and if they managed to find any hints about their mysterious blue-caped, scimitar-wielding rescuer in the meantime, then all the better.

As the torches that surrounded the teleport gate were gradually consumed by the 60th floor’s perennial night, Caenor lifted his lamp and peered at the ground. It was relatively unblemished, but given that the ground was composed mostly of loose rock, he knew that any aberrations would quickly reveal themselves. As if on cue, a groove entered the pool of light that served as their sole guide into the unknown, its pronounced shadow making it seem larger than it perhaps really was.

“This…” Caenor kneeled beside the mark and placed a hand on it, tracing its exterior. “What does it look like to you guys?”

Ferramo peered at the groove. “It doesn’t look like a footprint, at least.”

“Maybe I’m just being paranoid,” Caenor snickered, and rose to his feet. Yet as he swung his lamp around, he noticed a second groove not too far from the first. Pointing at it, he said, “What about that one?”

“Another one,” Ferramo grunted. “That doesn’t look like a footprint either, though. Not a golem footprint – golems’ feet aren’t that small.”

“You’re right. Unless…” Caenor stood between the two grooves and waved his lamp over the space between them. “You see?”

“They’re…” Seki gasped. “They’re part of the same print.”

Something rumbled in the distance, barely audible, but deafening in their ears. The three of them glanced at each other.

“We have to make a run for it.” Caenor yanked his lamp upwards in desperation as he tried to ascertain his location, but all he could see was the same plastered mud and dirt stretching as far as the eye could see – which, in this case, was not very far at all. “Which way’s the teleport gate?”

“That one’s the first groove, so I think over there.” Seki pointed to her right.

“Let’s get a move on!” yelled Caenor.

The trio began to run. Their boots kicked up the packed mud and splattered it all over the hems of their robes, but that was near the absolute least of their concerns. They willed their legs to carry them forwards as quickly as they could go, and all they could hear was the thudding of their feet on the ground, the beating of their hearts in their ears, and the ominous, cacophonic rumble that, despite their best efforts, seemed to be gaining in volume.

The rumbling soon echoed so loudly in their ears that even the floor began to shake. Caenor knew that they had little option but to turn and face their assailant, and he would rather choose to do so than have the choice made for him. He planted a boot into the dirt, screeching to a halt as he drew his sword.

“Seki! Ferramo!” he called. “We can’t outrun it! We have to fight!”

Ferramo turned and pulled his shield from the strap on his back. The shield was a gold trimmed steel aegis almost as large as Ferramo himself – an item passed down to him from a commander who had chosen to learn the way of the two-handed sword and thus had no use for it any more. Only someone with Ferramo’s brute strength, much like the commander himself, could wield a monstrosity such as this.

“Seki! Light! Ferramo, guard her!”

Seki produced a yellow crystal from her inventory and muttered a command. A plume of light billowed out from the crystal, and as it reached the source of the rumbling, the true scale of the task that confronted them was brought into uncomfortably sharp focus.

The golem, as it predictably turned out to be, was made of earth and stone, as all golems were. However, the one that currently faced them was further reinforced by sheets of iron that had been hastily clobbered together, as if the golem itself had pressed the makeshift armor onto its body, then glued them together by some mystical means. One of its thick, rugged arms was lined with spikes and shards of scrap metal protruding from the rock, a painful proposition for any who were unfortunate enough to be on the receiving end of its flails. The golem’s eyes glowed a deep crimson from behind its helmet.

“An Armored Golem,” Caenor breathed.

The golem found the source of the light and raised an arm, poised to strike.

“Ferramo!”

“On it!” Ferramo darted in front of Seki with an agility that belied his stocky physique, raising the shield and kneeling behind it so his knees would absorb the worst of the blow. The golem brought its great arm crashing down, but Ferramo’s aegis held.

“Switch!” yelled Ferramo.

Caenor dashed towards the golems and, with a flourish, thrust his sword deep into the golem’s knee joints. A mistake, as it turned out. Caenor attempted to withdraw the sword, only to find that it was now stuck inside the stone.

The golem peered down at him. Caenor had no time to react before he was swatted aside, the strike sending him sprawling several meters away. He landed agonizingly on his elbows, the bones in his arms grinding against his flesh as they bore the brunt of his fall. He watched as his own health bar rapidly shrank, turning a deep ochre in color.

He rummaged for a health potion, found one, and popped the lid open, letting the contents pour down his throat as quickly as he could without gagging on the liquid. As the feeling crept back into to his limbs, he rose to his feet unsteadily and surveyed the scene. Seki, silver two-handed axe in hand, unleashed a flurry of swings against the iron armor to no avail; Ferramo took blow after blow, wincing and clenching his teeth as the golem battered his shield without relent. Caenor’s sword jutted out from the golem’s knee, reminiscent of Excalibur trapped inside the magic stone that held it.

There was little Caenor could do without his sword – he had no shield, and his backup dagger would not help much. He had no choice but to rely on his teammates; reliable as they were, he was not sure if they could handle an Armored Golem on their own.

“Seki!” he called. “Go for the knee! I’ll try and get my sword out!”

Seki nodded, and, ducking under the golem’s wild swings, aimed her weapon at the golem’s outstretched knee. The axe glowed red as it collided, shattering the exposed rock and sending the sword clattering onto the floor. The golem fell onto its uninjured leg, and Caenor rushed over and grabbed the sword, taking advantage of the golem’s lowered height to lash the blade against the golem’s neck. Steel won over stone, and the golem shrieked in pain as the sword cut deep into the exposed portion of its head.

This time, there would be no getting stuck. Another cleave, and the rest of the head was severed. The golem’s body, now unanimated, collapsed in a limp heap.

For a moment, the entire world seem to fall silent. Then, Ferramo let out a throaty laugh.

“We did it!” he exclaimed, smacking the back of his shield in delight.

Relief flooded into Caenor’s chest, and he chuckled, placing his hands on his hips.

“Well done,” he said, patting Seki on the shoulder. Seki blushed, but said nothing. It was obvious from the lack of color in her cheeks that she’d need some time to recover from the shock of the fight.

However, their muted celebrations were soon to be cut short.

Multiple rumbles rang out from the darkness. Caenor and Ferramo froze.

“It can’t be,” croaked Caenor.

The light of the lamp, which had been discarded during the fight, cast its diminishing yellow glow on a second golem foot. And a third. And a fourth. And a fifth.

They were completely surrounded.

As Caenor raised his sword and prepared to make his final stand, something flashed from behind one of the golems. He barely had time to wonder what it was before the golem closest to it let out an unearthly wail, its colossal frame dragged to the floor with unnatural ease as if it were made of candy floss.

The other three golems rotated their unwieldy forms to face the new threat, but they, too, were mowed down in quick succession, falling one after the other and slamming into their compatriots like a row of dominoes. They crumbled into piles of dead rock, shattering the earth and clattering with such force and noise that Caenor suspected the entire floor could hear the sound of their demise.

The dust lifted slightly, and a silhouette slowly emerged from the debris.

“You guys alright?” said the figure, who sported cropped brown hair and faded gray leather armor.

Caenor breathed his second sigh of relief in as many minutes. At this point, the rollercoaster of emotions he was experiencing threatened to turn his legs into jelly. “Yes, we’re fine.”

“Don’t think you should be out here, just the three of you. This is no place for players of your level.” The figure entered the light, and as his armor came into view, Caenor saw the familiar square buckler and scimitar dangling from the figure’s hip.

“You’re the one who saved us from the Blood Wolves,” Caenor noted.

“That was you as well?” The figure shook his head. “You lot should be staying out of trouble.”

“What’s your name?” asked Seki, her eyes brimming with nascent tears.

“I’m Max. And you?”

“This is Seki,” Caenor said. “I’m Caenor, and that’s Ferramo.”

“I see.” Max peered at their armor. “I recognize that red cross. Knights of the Blood, right? You lot are pretty famous in these upper echelons.”

Caenor nodded. “We’re just grunts, really. We were sent here to find you.”

“Find me? Well, what an honor. Whatever would you want me for?”

“I told our vice-commander about you taking out that pack of Blood Wolves. She said we could use someone like you in the ranks.”

“You’ll have to tell her I’m sorry, then. I’m already in a different guild.” Max raised his eyebrows as if to apologize. “Does she know the three of you are here?”

“No, she doesn’t.” Caenor shook his head. “She told us to go to the 11th floor, where you bought your cape. The smith there told us that you’d be here.”

“I see, that’s good.” Max smiled. “She doesn’t know, huh?”

It was then that something caught Caenor’s eye, something that he would come to curse himself for not seeing sooner. Above Max’s head, where the fog had now fully cleared, hovered the cursor that marked the presence of all players within the bounds of Aincrad.

It was bright orange.

“You---”

Max leapt forward, and before Caenor could utter another word, plunged his scimitar deep into Ferramo’s abdomen.

* * *

Caenor was awoken by a stinging pain in his arms. As his senses returned, the pain grew until it occupied the entirety of his thoughts. His eyes watered as it overwhelmed his senses, every muscle in his body twitching violently as he sought to rid himself of the agony.

“Good to see you’re awake,” said a voice.

Caenor peered down to find Max grinning at him. The sight of Max’s face brought his memories crashing back into his beleaguered mind. He saw Ferramo fall, his health bar draining until its last vestiges were spent, his form shattering into infinitesimal pieces, borne away by the wind, never to be seen again. He saw Max striking Seki across the head with the handle of his scimitar, sending Seki crumpling into a heap. He saw Max doing him the same favor before the world span around him and he lost all consciousness.

It was then that Caenor realized that he was unable to move. He turned his head and saw what was restraining his movement.

A large rusty nail was buried deep into each of his palms, his hands soaked in the blood that continued to pour from the open wounds. He could not lift his head, as his entire body had been pressed – nailed, rather – against a wooden board, but he could hear his health bar whittling away slowly above him.

The shock of his current predicament could only find its escape through one outlet. The bile surged upwards through his esophagus until, in a fit of coughs, he vomited all over Max’s face.

“Hey!” snarled Max, who jumped back and wiped the sick from his eyes. “You fucking shithead!” He picked up a knife from a nearby table and thrust it into Caenor’s ribs.

Caenor spluttered, and a frothing red ichor joined the liquid that had been expelled from his gaping mouth. He was getting drowsier, the ground beneath him seeming to open and close simultaneously as he struggled to maintain his focus. He knew that fainting here would most certainly spell death for him, even if there was little else he could do to prevent that conclusion from being reached.

A faint grunting and groaning entered his ears. Caenor attempted to hear what it was, but the ringing in his ears and the pumping of his heart as it strained to replace the blood dribbling from his palms rendered him unable to take in much else.

“Let’s patch you right up, shall we?” Max lifted a health potion to Caenor’s lips and forced the concoction down his throat, pressing the neck of the flask against his teeth. Caenor screamed as the liquid made its way down whichever hole it cared to find, which included the tube that led to his lungs. As his chest burned, he could see his wounds healing from the corner of his eye, but the nails that remained in his palms prevented the lacerations from sealing up in full, causing even more pain as the skin closed around them. Caenor gritted his teeth and writhed, a show of discomfort which seemed to delight Max, his lips curling into a crooked smile.

The ringing subsided, and the grunting and groaning grew clearer. It was then that Caenor realized what the sound was coming from.

He could not see much, relying on the flickering of the single candle situated some distance away for vision, but at the back of the room Caenor could glimpse the outlines of two figures. One lay motionless and prone on the floor, another was pinning them to the ground and oscillating in a sickeningly rhythmic fashion. As Caenor realized the identities of the two silhouettes and what was currently happening to them, a rage bubbled in him that seemed to numb even the searing pain that had overtaken his senses. His wrath burned in his veins until all that filled his view was a white incandescence, a blinding light that imbued him with a strength he did not ever know he could have mustered.

Taking advantage of his now mostly filled health bar, which he presumed had been replenished to ensure he felt as much pain as possible before he was killed, he grabbed the heads of the nails with his fingers and ripped his hands from the board, roaring with a mixture of agony and anger as he dislodged himself and lunged towards Max, who stumbled backwards, obviously surprised by Caenor’s newfound vigor. The two of them crashed onto the floor, and Caenor, now quite literally armed with the nails protruding from the backs of his hands, curled his fingers into fists and repeatedly slammed the tips of the nails into Max’s neck and chest. Max began to choke on the blood that was gathering in his throat, and sputtered as his own health bar shrank rapidly into nothing. As Max’s health bar shone as red as the blood that now pooled in his mouth, Caenor gripped the nail in his right arm tight for one final jab, and shoved it into the center of Max’s throat. The health bar became completely transparent, and Max’s body glowed momentarily before exploding into tiny pieces.

“You little---” The other man, who had clearly been enjoying himself immensely given the lack of clothing on his body, grabbed a dagger and advanced towards Caenor. Caenor lifted both his fists and swung them wildly at the man. The man ducked underneath his inaccurate punches and tackled Caenor to the ground, pressing the dagger against his neck. Caenor resisted and thrashed against the man’s body, but the nails in his palms were depriving his hands of their usual strength, and the man was evidently much stronger physically than he was.

As the blade brushed against his flesh, Caenor closed his eyes and let his arms fall, his energy having been totally spent from fighting Max. If he should perish here, he reasoned to himself, at least he had managed to take his enemy with him.

Yet the moment Caenor resigned himself to his end, the pressure stopped, and the dagger fell onto his chest. He opened his eyes to see Seki standing behind the man, and as the man groaned and fell limply beside him, Caenor found the knife that Max had used to stab him now embedded so deeply into the man’s back that only the handle remained visible. The man’s corpse followed Max into the afterlife, bursting into a million shards of red and white, then dissipating into the air.

Whatever hell awaited them, Caenor thought, would not be enough punishment for what they had done.

He yanked the nails from his hands, wincing as he did so, and rose to his feet, stumbling across to the table behind Seki. A rack of health potions had been installed into the wall next to the table, and he handed one to Seki before taking one for himself, gulping down the fluorescent liquid until the health bar above him reverted to a healthy green state.

Caenor averted his gaze as Seki’s nude form filled his vision. “You know where your armor is?” he asked as he looked away.

“Yeah. It’s on the table. I see it.” Seki seemed so shaken by the ordeal that every single syllable seemed as though it had to be forced out from the back of her throat. A brief rustling followed, and once Seki was fully clothed again, the two of them started to take stock of their surroundings.

They were in a dungeon of sorts, a rectangular, boxy room assembled from jagged stone. Spears and swords lined the walls, and on the tables were laid out what could only be described as instruments of torture, from tongs and nail pullers to the knives whose cold steel Caenor could still feel sliding into his ribcage. Little else decorated the room aside from a symbol that had been crudely carved into the wall. It was a sneering face with a skeletal arm hanging by its side, a design that Caenor knew all too well from the repeated warnings and information tablets issued by his superiors.

“Laughing Coffin,” Caenor muttered.

“Not surprised.” Seki seemed strangely calm, though her trembling eyes looked to be on the verge of tears at any given moment. “They’re the only ones capable of such… depravity. Awful. Awful fucking people. I can’t believe… Ferramo…” She capitulated to her emotions and wept loudly, burying her face into her hands and sobbing. Caenor wrapped an arm around her and held her heaving shoulders close, rubbing her back in an attempt to comfort her.

He looked up at the Laughing Coffin insignia again. The malicious grin on the face seemed to grow ever wider the more he stared. Unable to bear any more witness to its mocking form, he took a spear from a nearby shelf and struck the symbol until it was so marred with pockmarks as to be essentially unrecognizable; he gripped the spear so tightly that his knuckles, which had only just healed, went white and taut.

Something hidden behind one of the shelves briefly distracted Caenor from his reverie. A small parchment was nestled in the gap between the back of the shelf and the wall. Caenor surmised that it had rolled off the table during their fight.

He picked it up and unrolled it. On it was a numbered list from 1 to 100, with strings of numbers filled in at varying intervals. It didn’t take him long to realize that the list represented the floors of the floating castle in which they lived, and the numbers, grouped into pairs, were coordinates that followed the game’s location format.

“This could come in handy.” He showed the list to Seki, then pocketed the parchment. “Now then, let’s find a way out.”

A stairway led upwards at the far end of the room. Caenor strapped the spear to his back and guided Seki up the stairs, peering carefully around the corner once every so often in case there were further enemies, but the only sound he could hear now were their footsteps and the faint whistling of wind from above. The top of the stairway led into a small antechamber, which was empty save for a torch on the wall and a door at the side opposite from the stairs.

Caenor pulled the door open slowly and peeked through. There was no light outside save for that which pooled from inside the antechamber, and the reddish-brown dirt near his feet suggested that they were still on the 60th floor. It would likely be one hell of a walk to the teleport gate, assuming they made it without any golems spotting them.

“You got a weapon?” he whispered to Seki. Seki waved the dagger in her hand and nodded.

“Good. Let’s find the teleport gate.” Caenor opened the door wide and slipped into the waiting night. Some of the fog had cleared, leaving only the starlight to show them the way. Caenor recalled something that one of his commanders had told him: that the largest star in the night sky pointed north, similar to the star of Polaris that inhabited the real world’s web of stars. Given that the 60th floor’s teleport gate was also located in the north, all they really had to do was move towards the star, and eventually they would find themselves at the gate.

Easier said than done, of course. The next thirty minutes were spent tiptoeing forwards in trepidation, their ears prickling every time the breeze passed by, as if the golems that lurked in the dark might somehow be carried via the air to their location. It seemed, however, that escaping under the cover of night worked to some degree, for the teleport gate’s torches eventually loomed close. Caenor, who held onto Seki’s hand for the entire duration, had never been so happy to see the teleport gate; he silently swore to never take teleportation for granted ever again.

Caenor punched in the command to take him to Granzam, and as they materialized in Granzam’s teleport plaza, a pair of Knights of the Blood members rushed to greet them and prop them up on their shoulders.

“We were waiting for you,” explained one of the members as they hobbled back to their headquarters. “You were gone for an hour and a half, and Asuna got worried, so she sent a search party to the 11th floor. They’re probably on the 60th floor right now, looking for you.”

“Well, I’m glad to know we’re so well-valued.” Caenor laughed weakly.

“Of course you are. Asuna would never abandon one of her own. Speaking of which… Where’s Ferramo?”

Caenor glanced over at Seki, whose brow furrowed upon hearing Ferramo’s name.

“That can probably wait,” Caenor replied quietly.

* * *

Caenor lay in his bed, his eyes glued to the pattern engraved into the ceiling. He wondered if he would ever truly rest again. Every time his head touched the pillow, he was reminded of the cold wooden board that had propped his head up in the Laughing Coffin dungeon. Every time he breathed, he could feel the liquid filling his lungs, drowning him from the inside, and the icy blade of the knife puncturing his lungs, eviscerating him with ruthless efficiency. Sleep only came when his mind, exhausted from torturing itself without pause, allowed his consciousness to slip into slumber. Then, as he woke again, the cycle would resume, and the daydreams would return in all their glory.

It had been three days since the incident. Caenor had been waiting for the sheer weight of the trauma to overwhelm him, but at this point, he seemed numb even to the death of one of his closest in-game comrades. He had known Ferramo – along with Seki – since they had first met on the second floor of Aincrad. They had joined the Knights of the Blood together, and sworn to make it out of the game alive, just as all those who entered the guild had done.

Of course, circumstance cared little for oaths that could not be backed up with action. A cynical and cruel part of him, a part that Caenor did not know existed until now, whispered to him that Ferramo had been weak, little more than a meat shield, and that his deficiencies had cost him his life. Caenor quashed such thoughts as soon as they arrived, but their specter lingered long after in the corner of his mind.

Seki, on the other hand, had not left her room for the past three days. Food and drink had been left at her door, but it seemed that she could not bear to consume anything other than water. In many ways, Seki had it worse than Caenor. At the very least, if Caenor had died, he would have passed on in the knowledge that the internal integrity of his body had not been violated, as players' bodies were removed as soon as their lives had been snuffed out. Seki would never be able to say the same – her life was now a constant, incessant reminder of that day, a film that played over and over again in the theater of her head. She would not entertain any visitors, not even Caenor himself, and so she was left to her own devices until she was ready to emerge from her self-imposed imprisonment.

Could time truly heal all wounds? For the moment, it was hard to say.

A knock on the door jolted Caenor.

"Yes?" he called.

The door swung open, and his superior entered.

"Are you well?" asked Asuna, taking a seat at the chair beside his bed.

"As well as can be expected. How's Seki?"

"She is… alive." Asuna smiled bitterly. "None of us are allowed in, so I unfortunately cannot say much more than that."

Caenor shrugged. "That's good enough for now, I think. She needs time."

"We will give her as long as she needs," Asuna assured him. "But what about yourself? Are you feeling any ill-effects? Nightmares? Seizures?"

"Not that I know of. I have to admit, I'm surprised myself. I don't feel anywhere near as horrible as I expected."

"That's a good thing, I would say. You don't want to be bedridden for that long. Not in these trying times." She leaned forward and stared into his eyes, her features suddenly turning solemn. "Also because I may require your help in the days to come."

"Help with what?"

Asuna produced the parchment Caenor had found in the dungeon, and held it up to his face. "This list that you found will change everything. Our strategies, our operations, perhaps even the fate of Aincrad as a whole."

"That's a pretty dramatic way to put it."

"It's no laughing matter." Asuna unfurled the parchment and pointed at a coordinate under the entry labeled "55". "This is the floor we're on. You realize what this means, right?"

"Not particularly."

"These are locations of Laughing Coffin hideouts. We've confirmed a couple of these coordinates with safehouses that we've cleared in the past, but we'd never found a list like this in those places. This piece of parchment will be key to our efforts." She underlined the coordinate under "55" with her finger. "There is a hideout here. Near Granzam. Right in the vicinity of our headquarters."

"Have you pinpointed where exactly the coordinates are?"

"They're centered around a hut just outside the city walls, a place not covered by the anti-criminal Area effect."

"Then I suppose you could march in there with a squad and smoke them out. Wouldn't be difficult, given the degree of clout our guild has in this city."

"You're not wrong, but that's something we can only get away with in Granzam. What about the other locations?" Asuna ran her finger down the page. "We'll need to send squads all over the realm. And with the numbers we're needing on the front lines at the upper floors, we can't really spare that many to manage our affairs down here. It would take a very long time to get anything done if we kept rotating people in and out of the front lines."

"So, what do you propose?"

"After some consultation with the other vice-commanders, we've decided to create a brand-new team. As you know, the members of the guild are grouped into major teams, with a vice-commander leading each team. I'm the leader of Team B, of course."

"And this new team will be dedicated to rooting out Laughing Coffin hideouts?"

"Precisely. I'm glad you're catching on. There is a bit of a hitch, though." Asuna sighed. "None of the existing vice-commanders want to help lead this new team. All of them want to be out on the front lines, fighting bosses and such. In all fairness, I'm sort of the same."

"None of these commanders think saving players' lives is more important than fighting bosses?" Caenor asked incredulously. For the first time in what seemed like forever, he could feel emotion washing over him. And it wasn't positive emotion. Not one bit.

"We're trying to look at the bigger picture here," Asuna replied softly, though her eyes hardened as she scrutinized the changes in Caenor's demeanor. "Clearing floors faster means we might be able to free everyone in this game a bit faster, as opposed to protecting a few players who may or may not be targeted."

"You know they'll be targeted. Please, Asuna." Caenor shook his head and glared at her. "I may be pretty on edge, but that doesn't mean I'm stupid. I'm ready to fight these bastards, and I'm sure many others feel the same."

"That's the attitude I want to see." Asuna leaned back in her chair and smiled triumphantly. "How would you like to become a vice-commander?"

"I… what?"

"I have Heathcliff's approval to promote you to the position. You'll lead the new team. You have the experience of fighting 'those bastards', after all, something that few others in the guild have. Most other players would shy away from the thought of killing another human, regardless of how evil those humans are. But you're prepared to kill if it's necessary, because you've done it before. Once the shackles are off," Asuna mimicked the snapping of a chain with her hands, "there's no stopping the train."

"Have you ever killed someone in-game?" asked Caenor.

Asuna froze.

"Why do you ask?"

"It's not as easy as you make it seem. The first time you kill… Unless you're blinded by raw emotion, like I was, it's incredibly difficult to push the knife deep enough to end another person's life. Sure, it may be a little easier after that. But if you haven't experienced it, you really shouldn't make light of it."

"I'm not underestimating your resolve; I apologize if that's how it sounded to you. And no, I've never killed anyone before. Not even orange cursors. I don't think any of the vice-commanders have, either."

"Then I can see why none of the vice-commanders want to take charge, if that's the case." Caenor rose from the bed and made to leave, stopping in front of the open door and looking back at Asuna, who returned his gaze with obvious unease. "None of them have ever killed before. And they don't want to admit it."

Caenor snapped the door shut, leaving Asuna alone in his room.


	3. Reclamation

The twittering of birds outside as they began their day, coupled with the budding sunlight that crept through the glass, was enough to rouse both of the people sleeping on the bed parked near the window. A hand crept across the surface of the blanket, groping for an alarm clock, but finding something much more… enticing.

The maroon-haired girl moaned. "No, Kirito…" she muttered. "Not there…"

"Not where?" asked her partner.

Asuna's eyes darted open. "No, I mean… Good morning, Kirito…" She let out an awkward laugh.

"Good morning, Asuna." Kirito was as unfazed as ever. As he was in battle, so he was in bed, too. "Something on your mind?"

"On my mind? Whatever could you be talking about?"

"You couldn't stop sighing last night when we were having dinner. And you kept squirming around in your sleep, like you were having nightmares. If you want to talk, I'm all ears."

"Nothing ever gets past you, does it?" Asuna giggled. "You're right. I have been thinking of… things."

"What sort of things?"

"You remember the guild-mate I was telling you about a couple days ago?"

"The one who almost died after he got caught by Laughing Coffin? Yeah, I remember that. How's he doing? What about the girl that was with him?"

"He's doing alright, and the girl has started to eat again, so it's definitely looking up."

"That's good to hear. So, what's the problem?"

"Let me finish first. We were talking about establishing a new team, and I kind of pissed him off a bit. I didn't mean to, you know. It's just… He was talking about killing other players, and, you know, I've never killed anyone before, so I guess I wasn't really being sensitive to how he might feel. But he ended up leaving the room in a huff even before I'd told him any of the details about the new team."

"Hm." Kirito scratched his chin. "You know, I get his point. Laughing Coffin are no laughing matter, for lack of a better expression. Remember that time we had to face off against a group of player killers? It still gives me the shivers. The thought of sticking my swords into someone else's chest, watching the life fade from their health bars, their bodies splintering into tiny little pieces… It changes you. Irrevocably."

"But you were acting in self-defence, weren't you?"

"Of course. The motives behind my actions were fully justified. But the act itself is homicide, at the end of the day. There's no escaping that."

"I guess so." Asuna leaned towards Kirito until she could feel the wisps of his breath on her cheeks. "But you won't have to worry about that anymore. You'll be on the front lines, doing what you do best. They'll handle the dirty work."

"Yeah." Kirito smiled. "We'll focus on getting those floors cleared. The sooner we do that, the less people will have to die."

"You read my mind."

The two lovers snuggled under the blanket, basking in each other's warmth. As long as they had each other, nothing else mattered.

The birds continued to chirp. The morning sunlight was at full bloom.

All was well with the world.

* * *

"Can I come in?"

A quiet murmur could be heard from behind the door. Caenor took that as a yes.

He turned the knob. The door was finally unlocked. Breathing a sigh of relief, he stepped into the room.

"Seki?"

The bloated mass of cotton that covered the bed shifted slightly. Caenor sat on the edge of the bed, patting the blanket that covered Seki's withered form.

"You doing okay?"

A pause. Then, "What do you think?"

"Guess not."

The two of them sat in silence for a few moments, each unwilling to break the ice that had formed between them. Then, Caenor willed himself to speak again.

"Asuna spoke to me the other day." Caenor bit his lip. "She wants to create a new team, and she wants me to lead it."

"Good for you," came the response.

"Maybe. I don't know if it's a good thing or not. She only picked me because I'd killed someone before. She could easily have come to you."

"I don't want to be a part of any of it. Any of her stupid plans, her stupid fights. Anything." Seki hiccupped, her words punctuated by quiet sobs. "It… It still hurts… Down there… It won't stop hurting. I just want… the pain to stop…"

"Then maybe I have the just the right tonic for you." Caenor cleared his throat. "What would you think about taking revenge on the people who hurt you?"

"The people that hurt me are dead. I killed one of them… But… it still hurts. It still…"

"Not those people. Those two aren't coming back. I mean the people who are like them. Player killers. Other Laughing Coffin members. Orange cursors, even."

"What good would that do for me? I could kill every single orange cursor in Aincrad and it wouldn't stop the pain. Nothing ever will. Just leave me alone."

"But maybe if you-"

"Leave me alone!" Caenor felt a kick from underneath the blanket. He sighed, got up, and left the room.

The headquarters of the Knights of the Blood was a magnificent structure, befitting of the status of the guild that it housed. Every corridor was lined with red carpet and furnished with arrays of gold and silver leaf. Every room was tiled with marble, from the smallest pantry to the largest conference chamber. Above the parapets lining the entryway were rows of crimson flags, each proudly emblazoned with the jagged cross that served as the emblem of the Knights of the Blood. It was hard to believe that the guild it had been little more than a ragtag band of adventurers just under a year ago. Yet the reality of the guild's current status was made as lucid as possible to the people of Granzam in the form of an overbearing, extravagant stone complex that stood vigil over the rest of the city.

Perhaps, Caenor thought to himself as he exited the building, if half of the Cor spent building this place went instead towards funding better armor and accessories for the guild’s members, they might have already completed the game, or at the very least gotten a few floors further. But by now he knew that the ultimate goal of many of those who played this game was not necessarily to complete it. Some people enjoyed the cut and thrust that this game afforded them, a relatively risk-free alternative to the mundanity of the real world’s daily life if one didn’t stray too far from the beaten path.

The epitome of this perspective was the notorious “Beater”, the Black Swordsman, Kirito. He was famous for, amongst other things, capturing the heart of the woman Caenor now knew as his vice-commander, as well as developing a reputation for flashy sword skills and lightning-quick reflexes in the heat of combat. His abilities were such that he and his partner alone were usually sufficient to take down bosses in their entirety, though he would never take all the credit for such incredible feats. “It’s all thanks to my friends,” he would say, gesturing at the gaggle of doe-eyed girls that never left his side.

Despite all of the Black Swordsman's martial prowess, it was obvious to his friends that he was not motivated by a desire to finish the game per se. For all his formidable ability, he did what he did out of a sense of enjoyment more than of responsibility or duty. He was not connected to the guild beyond his affiliation with Asuna, and even though the Knights of the Blood occasionally relied on him to finish bosses off, he only utilized his powers wherever he saw fit to.

Kirito lived and breathed the game in a way few others did. Why would he ever want it to end?

Caenor had been walking aimlessly for around ten minutes, lost in thought, and before he knew it his feet had carried him to Granzam's teleport plaza. He had never been much of a peripatetic, but then again these past few days had been passed in something of a daze. Caenor's life had been turned upside down, but the rest of Aincrad didn't slow down to wait for him. It simply wouldn't. The sun rose and fell, the people went about their business as usual. If he were to regain any semblance of normality, he'd have to grab any chances he could by the scruff of the neck.

That included, of course, the offer that Asuna had presented him.

As irresponsible as it was for the guild's vice-commanders to foist the immeasurably vital task of policing the activities of a known group of murderers on a common guild member, Caenor knew he had little alternative. If he refused the opportunity and returned to the front lines, leaving other players to fend for themselves when he could have stepped in to help them, he would never be able to forgive himself. He owed it to Seki – and Ferramo – to do what he could.

Even if Seki would never go back to her old self. Even if, every time Caenor closed his eyes, he saw Seki's bright and sanguine features turning gaunt and hollow as she submitted herself to the man who had committed the gravest of sins against her.

He bought a pie from a nearby stall and sat on one of the benches, munching on his food as he watched the crowd around the teleport gate. All of them were adventurers, keen to return to raiding or dungeon exploring as soon as they could. They treated this world like a game, not just because it was a game by definition, but because it was the only thing they could do to distract themselves from the harsh reality of their situation.

Caenor would return to action, too. But not to raiding or exploring. His mind was now made up – though in truth, it perhaps had already been made up for him the moment he had first taken another person's life.

"You doing okay?"

Caenor looked up. The source of the voice was another black-haired teenage boy. Nothing about the person standing in front of him stood out from the rest of the crowd, save for the pair of large swords strapped to his back. One gleamed in brilliant turquoise; the other was jet black, its matte sheen shimmering in the noon sun's glare.

Speak of the devil.

"Are you…" Caenor squinted. "Kirito?"

* * *

The two young men chewed on their meals, both staring out at the throng of people milling about in the wide expanse of the plaza.

"I'm surprised you recognized me," Caenor commented.

"Asuna described your appearance to me – she said you looked a little like me. To be fair, your hairstyle and face are similar to mine. Minus the gray eyes, though."

"Yeah, well, we can't all be perfect."

Kirito snorted. "I'm not sure Asuna likes me because of my dashing looks."

"Suppose not." Caenor glanced at his companion. "What brings you here?"

"Mandatory vacation. We just came back from a run of four raids in six days, so Asuna told me to take the next week off. It's only the second day, but I already feel the itch to get back into the field. I ended up here before I even knew it." Kirito peered at Caenor. "Also, I've been meaning to talk to you. I've sort of been looking out for you as well, I guess."

"Talk to me? About what?"

"Well…" Kirino frowned, as if wondering how best to put into words what he wanted to say. "I hear you're going to be leading a new team for the guild."

"Is that the word that's going around about me right now?"

"Is it not true?"

"I haven't exactly expressed my interest in the job. Neither Asuna nor any of the vice-commanders have contacted me in the past few days, even though they know where to find me."

"I'm not sure Asuna thinks you're in the mood to talk, to be honest. Not when you bailed out on her when she was trying to tell you about her plans for the team."

"I didn't bail out on…" Caenor sighed. "Look, here's the thing. Assume you weren't her hubby for a moment, and just analyze Asuna from a purely objective, third-party perspective. What would you think of her?"

Kirito shrugged. "Good fighter. Capable commander. Compassionate. What else is there to say?"

"No negatives?"

"Not in particular. I mean, you probably think I have the biggest pair of rose-colored glasses on right now, but I honestly don't see any major flaws with her."

"Everyone has something they're bad at." Caenor paused. "I respect her greatly as a vice-commander. She's one of the better strategists amongst the team leaders, and she's some force on the battlefield for sure. But that only applies to fighting bosses or mobs. When it comes to dealing with other people, it's like she only wants to see the good in them, and never the evil. You get on her bad side, she'll be annoyed for maybe 10 minutes, and then she'll go back to being nice again. When she prepares for battles, she almost always assumes that people won't run away or back off if things aren't going as planned. What I'm trying to get at is – and you'll have to forgive me for saying this – she's a bit naïve. Which can be fatal for someone in her position; fatal for her subordinates, at least."

Caenor half-expected Kirito to lash out angrily at him for insulting his one true love, or at least make his disagreement known in no uncertain terms to him. Instead, to Caenor's surprise, Kirito began to laugh heartily.

"That's the first time anyone's said something like that to me in a long, long while." Kirito grinned. "I always get the feeling that the people around me, at least the ones who haven't known me for a long time, are somehow afraid to make me feel bad about myself, or Asuna, or any of my other friends. Maybe that's what the whole 'Black Swordsman' reputation gets me. No one wants to offend the big, scary Beater. You, though, don't have any qualms about speaking your mind. I appreciate that."

"You won't tell her what I just told you, right? I don't want to find an extra stack of report work on my desk tomorrow morning."

"Of course not. She might have my head first, before she has yours. In fact…" Kirito fell into silent thought.

"In fact?"

"I may know a couple of acquaintances who could help you, if you're going ahead with it. The new team, I mean. You are… going ahead with it, right?"

"I don't have a choice."

"We all have a choice. But I know what you mean." Kirito stuffed the last of his food into his mouth and jumped up from the bench, stretching a hand out to Caenor. "Let's go. There's someone I'd like you to meet first."

* * *

A small bell above the entrance chimed quietly as Kirito pushed the door open. He was immediately met by the cheery and anticipative features of a maiden with haphazardly cropped pink hair that barely reached down to the top of her shoulders. She dropped the hammer she had been holding and came running over to greet her favorite guest.

"Hey there, Liz." Kirito withdrew the black half of his sword pair and handed it to the girl. "This one needs a little sharpening and durability checking. There's no rush, since I won't be doing any questing for the next few days, so give it as good a go as you got."

"Sure thing. You can count on me." Lisbeth peered behind Kirito. "Who's that?"

"This is… a friend of mine." He tapped Caenor's arm and motioned for him to step forward. "Caenor, this is one of the people I wanted you to meet. Her name's Lisbeth. She's sort of my personal smith, although I don't know if she likes me saying that."

"Nice to meet you. I'm Caenor."

"I'm Lisbeth." She grasped Caenor's hand and shook it firmly. "Don't mind Kirito. I'm not his personal anything. He already has Asuna, after all."

"That doesn't really have anything to do with smithing though, does it?" Kirito asked quizzically. "You can be my personal smith without being anything else."

"So, that's all I am to you, huh?" Lisbeth huffed. "Your servant?"

"No, of course not. That's not what I meant." Kirito placed a hand on Lisbeth's shoulder, who immediately turned a faint shade of rosy red upon contact. "I trust you with my weapons, and my weapons are my livelihood. They're how I get by. There's almost no one more important to me than you."

"I… You…" Lisbeth stammered, and quickly looked away. "Well, if it makes you happy, then I guess I'll keep helping you out," she murmured.

"Anyway, putting that aside for a moment, I also have a request for you."

Lisbeth perked up. "What sort of request? A new sword, maybe?"

"Kind of. I want you to make a weapon for Caenor. Custom order, if possible. I'll take up the tab."

"You can have the usual discount then. Though… custom-made? I have a few unique recipes, but most of them need rare materials that can only be obtained from Labyrinth boss drops or long quest chains. Give me a moment." She pulled open her player menu and scrolled through her list of forging recipes. "Crystallite, no… leather craftsman's quest, too long… noble's quest, also too long… Ah!"

She flipped her floating menu around. Kirito and Caenor leaned in for a closer look.

"Mithril retracting wrist-holster daggers," read Caenor.

"It's probably the most straightforward of the bunch. The mithril you can get from a recovery quest that asks you to kill Kobold Lords and retrieve the ore they've stolen. The other stuff should be easier. I have gold leaf here in my store, and the steel, bronze latches, and the rest can probably be bartered from other players or vendors. If not, ask Kirito to help you out with those. He's the one making the request, after all."

"Honestly, I don't know." Caenor put a hand on his chin in thought. "A longsword or claymore would be better, since I'm more used to that sort of weapon. Would something like that be available?"

"You have to remember, though, that you'll be doing most of your fighting in smaller, enclosed spaces," Kirito warned. "Rooms, corridors, alleys, stairways, and so on. Longswords and claymores are great against bosses and mobs in open expanses, but not so much against other armed players in narrower locations. Less room to swing the weapon around; much easier to hit a wall and disarm yourself in the process. A bladed wrist-guard provides close-quarter options for both offence and defence."

"Plus, all of the longsword recipes I have are pretty difficult to complete," Lisbeth added. "I would say wrist-blades, knives and daggers are your best bet, and not merely due to the reasons Kirito just laid out."

"Fine, I understand," Caenor replied. "I'll give it a go, then, if you tell me where to look."

"The mithril quest is on the 40th floor. You start the quest from an NPC blacksmith in Jaileum, the town on that floor. He's in the shop with the purple roof, near the town hall. You'll see once you get there."

"You want to head out tomorrow, then?" asked Kirito. "We can meet up at the teleport plaza."

"Wait." Caenor frowned. "You're coming with me?"

"Why not? I pretty much talked you and Liz into this, after all. It wouldn't be right for me to just sit around and have you do all the dirty work."

"I thought Asuna wanted you to rest?"

"What she doesn't know won't hurt her." Kirito gestured to his black sword. "You know what? If you get this polished by tomorrow morning, I'll pay extra."

"Come on, Kirito, you know me. You don't have to pay extra, I'll have it done by tonight. Just make sure you help your guild-mate out properly."

"Then I'll leave it to you." Kirito nodded to Caenor, and the two of them departed so as to make preparations for the journey to come.

* * *

The alarm clock installed in Caenor's player menu shook him out of his slumber. Having an alarm go off seemingly deep inside your head would be a surreal experience for most, but by now Caenor had become accustomed to the strangeness of living in a virtual world 24 hours a day. Many things were more convenient than their real-world counterparts, such as the ability to summon a messaging system in midair as opposed to having to pull out your phone and tap the words you wanted to send on a small screen, but one could imagine that such unusual ease of access still took some getting used to.

He had not woken up this early since his high school days. High school seemed like an eternity ago – there was scarcely any time to be worried about education when your life was constantly at risk. As a result, the alarm function went unused, and Caenor was typically free to awaken whenever he pleased, as long as he was on time for his weekly raid allocations.

Today was different, however.

Kirito had insisted on a nine o'clock meetup time in the Granzam teleport plaza. Caenor initially assumed that Kirito's enthusiasm had gotten the better of him, leading to the need for punctuality. It turned out that, though Caenor was not wrong about Kirito's zest for adventure, Kirito himself had a different reason behind the early wake-up.

"I've had a look over the mithril quest chain," Kirito explained as the two of them grabbed a quick bite from one of the surrounding food stalls. "We're going to have to talk to eight different NPCs. A few of them are located on different floors, and those NPCs also have their own recovery missions relevant to the quest chain as a whole. All in all, we'll need to hunt three different types of mobs: dark dwarves, Armored Giant Ants, and finally Kobold Lords. All three can only be found in Labyrinths. Aside from the hunting, it should be smooth sailing. Just talk to the NPC, agree with everything they say, and move on."

"That's going to take a while," Caenor commented.

"Yeah. Hence the need to wake up early, assuming we want to finish the entire chain within the day."

"The entire chain within the day? I thought we'd be spreading it out a little."

"Unfortunately Asuna caught me trying to sneak out early this morning to grab my sword from Lisbeth's, so I had to tell her about what I was helping you with. She insisted that I keep my outdoor activities limited to today, and take her out on a date tomorrow as compensation."

"Sorry for the rush then, I guess."

"It's no problem; I'm more than happy with how things have turned out. You get your gear as soon as possible, and I get to take Asuna on a date. It's a win-win in my book." Kirito winked.

"You really are unbearably optimistic," Caenor muttered. "I can see why the girls fawn over you so much now. You better hold your charm offensive in check, or I'll end up falling for you too."

"I don't swing that way, but I appreciate the sentiment."

The plaza was considerably emptier at this time of day, particularly because it was a Saturday. Though the days of the week mattered little in a world with no work or school, it was still custom for people to leave their weekends open for relaxation or get-togethers, meaning that the rest of the week was reserved for questing and other more serious business. Little wonder that Asuna wanted to leave the next day – Sunday – totally free for herself and her darling.

Their first destination was, as Lisbeth had mentioned the day before, the 40th floor. Jaileum, the 40th floor's only town, was a generic-looking cluster of houses and shops, not too dissimilar in atmosphere or aesthetic from Taft or any of the other towns that Caenor had visited recently, though of course finer details such as the settlement's overall layout differed from place to place. The quest was triggered after a brief conversation with the designated NPC smith, where a request by the NPC to kill dark dwarf miners was readily accepted, and the duo were well and truly on their way.

"First stop, 27th floor," Caenor said as he perused the quest log. "There's a town there as well – Ronbaru – so we can do some last-minute stocking-up. Then we're going to head to the floor's Labyrinth. Shouldn't be too bad, since it's just the 27th floor."

No answer.

"Kirito?"

Caenor turned to look at Kirito, who was staring at his feet in silence. For the first time in the admittedly brief period that the two of them had been together, the usual verve and spark had vanished from Kirito's eyes, replaced by a dull, distant, and somewhat sunken gaze.

"Hey." Caenor placed a hand on Kirito's shoulder and shook him gently. "You good?"

Kirito blinked, and glanced up at Caenor.

"Yeah. Yeah, I'm fine. I'm just… remembering something."

"We can put this off for today if you're not feeling alright."

"That would be delaying the inevitable." Kirito rolled his shoulders and straightened himself back up. "Let's go."

* * *

The geography of the 27th floor in itself would have been sufficient reason to visit the area, so unique and abstract was its landscape. The mountains that lined the region were impressive enough on their own, but under the endless night that smothered the sky, their most distinguishing feature was allowed to come to the fore: massive fluorescent spikes of azure prismatic crystal that jutted out at arbitrary intervals, illuminating the uneven roads that snaked through the valleys at the base of the hills. The crystals were abundant sources of mining materials, which contributed to the floor's overall popularity amongst craftsmen, smiths, and other artisanal professionals.

A place like this would never have a hope of being discovered in the real world. Little wonder that certain players, such as the one now walking by Caenor's side, might be secretly reluctant to leave.

Yet though Caenor knew that they were not here for sightseeing, he at least expected Kirito to display a little more vigor than he currently did. Every crystal they passed by seemed to dampen Kirito's mood even further, as though they were somehow emitting an aura that was fueling his newfound depression. As they approached the entrance of the Labyrinth, which was flanked by pillars of smooth marble, Caenor could not help but repeat his concerns.

"Kirito," he called.

Kirito's eyes widened, as if he had been half-asleep.

"Yes? What?"

"Something is really off about you today. I know it's not my place to ask, but if you're like this the whole way, we'll get eaten up the mobs here, even if they are relatively low-level. Is there something about this place that's bothering you?"

The muscles on Kirito's face twitched.

"If we get far enough into the Labyrinth, I'll show you," he replied.

"That's fine with me. Just be a little more alert, okay?"

Kirito nodded. "Okay."

Upon entering the Labyrinth, they were met by an instantaneous drop in temperature, coupled with a sudden hush falling over the air that seemed to block all noise from reaching their ears save for the hesitant tapping of their own footsteps. Caenor rubbed his arms for warmth, then unsheathed his sword.

"You know where to go?" Caenor asked.

"Yeah. I have the layout of this place memorized."

No sooner had those words left Kirito's lips than an earthen elemental drifted into view. Its gleaming eyes flickered as its attention was drawn to the Labyrinth's two newcomers.

Kirito pulled his swords out of the straps on his back and pointed them at the elemental. "Cover me!" he yelled as he lunged towards the monster.

The elemental raised a rocky arm to block the incoming blow, and with its other arm it swung fiercely at Kirito, who was sent flying back by the force of the elemental's parry. He managed to land on his feet, but the elemental was upon him in a flash, bringing both arms crashing down upon Kirito, who abruptly seemed at a loss for what to do.

"Switch!"

Caenor leapt in front of Kirito and pushed his longsword towards the elemental's clubbed fists, meeting them with as much force as he could muster. The elemental staggered backwards, startled by the force of the repulsion, and Caenor, wasting no time, sliced one of the elemental's flailing arms off in a single stroke. He flipped the sword around and, with both hands, slammed the pommel down above the elemental's neck. The elemental let out one final screech as it disintegrated into a scattered pile of minerals.

Kirito scrambled to his feet, putting his hands on his knees as he panted. Caenor went over to check on his condition.

"You okay?"

"Yeah. Yeah." Kirito wiped a few clumps of dust off his brow. "That took me a little by surprise, I think."

"Even so, I didn't think you'd have that much trouble with a basic mob elemental. We haven't even met any elite monsters yet. You could've just dodged its attacks and swung at its chest, and it probably would've died straight away."

"Sorry. I'll really be needing your help with this dungeon. It's just… again, like I said, I'll tell you when we get there."

"Get where?" Caenor asked bemusedly, but he did not press the issue further even when Kirito did not respond.

A group of three more elementals rounded the corner and made a beeline for the intruders. This time, Kirito was much more alert to the danger, rolling under the wild swings of the first elemental and slashing at its legs, thus incapacitating it for the rest of the fight. Caenor parried the blows of the other two elementals, and whilst their focuses were distracted, Kirito darted behind them and applied the finishing touches. The trio of mineral elementals, which would normally take a full raiding party at least a couple of minutes to destroy, were eliminated in the space of barely twenty seconds.

"We're really starting to click, aren't we?" said Kirito as he dispatched the last elemental. "That's what I like to see if I'm fighting with someone else."

"You said it."

None of the subsequent threats that came their way caused them any measure of trouble, though a group of unusually stout and well-armored elementals managed to hold them up for several minutes. Kirito took the encounter as a sign that they were nearing the center of the Labyrinth, where they might start running into dark dwarves, their intended targets.

As they continued to advance through the dungeon, something briefly caught Caenor's eye. A raised square panel on the wall – a wall which was otherwise completely smooth.

"Look at this," he said, moving over to the panel.

"Hm?" Kirito inspected the protrusion. "Looks like a switch of some sort."

"Maybe something will happen if we push it." Without further ado, Caenor did just that.

The panel retreated into its socket, and the entire wall began to glow. A bright red rectangle was traced around the panel, and before they knew it, the rectangle had disappeared, taking a chunk of the wall with it and revealing a room behind the marble. As the contents of the room became visible, Kirito gasped and leaned against the wall.

"That's…"

"What?" Caenor peered into the room. There seemed to be nothing of particular note inside, except for a treasure chest with its lid hanging open. "Oh, someone's been here before."

"Yeah." Kirito put a trembling hand to his temple, his face swiftly draining of color as if he had just seen a ghost. "That someone would be me."

* * *

Caenor and Kirito stood in front of the opened chest, staring into the empty container. Even the distant roar of monsters lurking the halls could not draw their eyes away from what sat before them.

"This is the place you wanted to show me? It's just a normal hidden treasure room."

"It means a lot more than that to me." Kirito let out a long breath through his nose. "It's a pretty long story."

"We have time, I think. You probably need a breather."

"Alright. Let's see… I don't know if you already heard about this, but I wasn't always the solo player that I'm now known to be. I used to be in a relatively lower-level guild, one called the Moonlit Black Cats."

"Doesn't ring a bell."

A bitter smile tugged at Kirito's mouth. "It didn't last very long, in all fairness."

"They split up?"

"Definitely not, they were tight-knit friends in the real world. I was the only outsider. Yet I was the only one who lived to tell the tale, all because I preferred to save them from the truth, rather than from their deaths."

"What truth?"

"The truth of a Beater; the truth of my identity. Beta-testers for this game have a poor reputation, as you're undoubtedly aware. I was twice their average level at the time, but I hid that fact from them because I knew what they'd think if I told them. I was a lot stronger than them in battle, but I always toned it down a little so that they wouldn't notice. Yet I was still useful enough for them to feel brave enough to try something a little harder than they would've done had I not been there, and that… that's what ultimately killed them."

Kirito paused.

"We'd finally bought our very own guild house, and we wanted to earn some quick money for the housewarming party by attempting a harder dungeon than we'd normally do. So, while the guild master was out getting the house ready, we made our way through this dungeon. We ended up earning all the Cor that we wanted to get, but then one of my guild-mates found this room." He patted the lid of the treasure chest. "This treasure chest was rigged with an anti-crystal zoning trap and a monster spawn trap. No escapes, no antidotes, no instant heals. Not even a message we could leave after we'd died. Just mob after mob after mob."

"I'm sorry to hear that, but… weren't you strong enough to fend those mobs off? You were already almost double the requisite level of this dungeon, after all."

"I originally thought that I'd see if we could fight our way out without me having to reveal too much. But when the first person was killed, I… I froze. I couldn't do anything. I felt like my limbs had been locked in place, and I could only watch as they were cut down, one by one. I don't really remember anything after that. All I remember are their faces."

"You made it out somehow, so you must've found the strength to fight."

"I suppose. But it came far too late for me to save them. And when I told the guild master, Keita, what had happened, he cursed me to hell for hiding my true level from him. Then, he…" Kirito looked away. "He jumped off the edge of the floor we were on. I guess I'm the last surviving member of the guild, if you could call me that."

"So, that's why you were acting so enervated. I understand now."

"I'm glad." Kirito chuckled nervously. "You know, talking about this to you was a great help. You're not the first person I've told this story to, but it's just… It's already been almost a year since that incident, yet the wounds that were cut in my soul remain. At some point, people expect you to get over it, but watching your friends die in such a callous manner, knowing that you could've prevented them from perishing if you'd been more forthright, both to yourself and to your companions…"

"It stays with you, doesn't it?"

"It does. I guess what I'm trying to say is, I know how you feel. I'm sorry for your loss, too. I heard about your friend's passing from Asuna."

"Don't be. I…" A numbness began to spread through Caenor's chest, but it was not an entirely unpleasant feeling. Perhaps the emotions he had been subconsciously repressing for the past week were finally being laid to rest. "I do feel a little better now. Thanks."

"You know, that's also one of the reasons I wanted to help you out. We're kindred spirits, in a way. Those who have watched people close to them die share a connection that those who haven't can never explain or experience. Those who have taken other people's lives, even more so."

"You've killed people before?"

"Out of necessity, yes. Sometimes you find yourself in a situation where it's either you or them, and your body moves before your mind wants it to." Kirito shrugged. "Better to live tainted by that mark than to die clean. Even more so if you have people you want to protect. You do, don't you? Like the girl who was with you."

"I would if she needed any protecting. I haven't seen her face in six days, or any part of her body for that matter."

"I don't blame her. Exposing herself to the world is probably the last thing she wants to do right now. Anyway, maybe we should get a move on. We've stalled here for long enough."

The coast outside the room was totally clear, save for the barely audible trundling of elementals as they patrolled the hallways. A good time as any to make some progress.

* * *

The dark dwarves proved to be not much more of a challenge than the elementals, and soon the now-reinvigorated pair were out of the Labyrinth once again, looted quest items in tow. As Caenor and Kirito made swift progress upwards through the quest chain, Caenor slowly felt his initial apprehension about Kirito fade. Such was his personality that he tended to be cynical about people whose reputations preceded them, given that many such people often had darker sides that they wanted to hide, but Kirito was as open and genuine a person as Caenor had ever met. He had his flaws, as everyone did, but he never hesitated to admit them or apologize for them – a rare trait in a world where the scale of one's power was often directly proportionate to the size of their ego.

As the day drew to a close, the final lap of their marathon approached: the interception of Kobold Lords in the Labyrinth of the 38th floor. After cutting their way through the swathes of kobolds that inhabited the Labyrinth, which took the form of a dark, soot-filled abandoned mine shaft, they soon arrived at the Kobold Lords' hideout.

The Kobold Lords present were somewhat smaller in size than their counterpart skulking the Labyrinth on the 1st floor, which was reflective of their status as sub-bosses, but as a gang they still packed enough of a punch for the unwary. Yet such was the confidence and synergy that brimmed within Caenor and Kirito that they, with naught but a nod to each other, strode into the chamber and immediately set to work. Their arms swung in tandem; their swords flashed as one. None could withstand them.

With the raw mithril ore secured, they returned to the smith shop on the 40th floor, emerging five minutes later with a stack of phosphorescent mithril ingots that seemed to catch even the faintest of the moonlight, which had been obscured by a passing blanket of clouds. Caenor took one out of his inventory to admire its sleek, pellucid exterior, then handed it to Kirito. As Kirito flipped it around in his hands and then made to return it, Caenor pushed it back into Kirito's embrace.

"Parting gift for you," Caenor explained. "You deserve at least that much. Sell it, turn it into a wedding ring, do whatever you want with it."

"Alright. Then I'll use it to buy something."

"Like what?"

Kirito passed it into Caenor's hands. "Your services. I'm looking forward to questing with you again in the future."

"You're so damn corny," Caenor replied, though he couldn't help but grin.

Kirito winked. "Let's hand these over to Liz before she shuts up shop," he said.

Caenor agreed, and before long they were back at Lindarth and in the familiar, smoky environs of Lisbeth's Smith Shop. Lisbeth whistled as Caenor laid out the bars of mithril in a neat row, lining them from one end of the table to the other.

"Impressive. I thought it'd take you guys three days at least. It's not an easy quest chain, that one, even though Kirito is seriously over-leveled for it."

"Be that as it may, Caenor really pulled his weight on this one." Kirito slapped Caenor's back. "Wouldn't have made it through the whole thing if not for him, especially in the first Labyrinth."

"If that's the case, then I'll be sure to make you the blades that you deserve." Lisbeth packed the mithril into a leather pouch and tied it up with hemp rope. "Just give me a few minutes. You can come in and watch, if you want."

The back room of Lisbeth's Smith Shop was considerably murkier and dustier than the relatively pristine shopfront, with tables, anvils and workstations scattered arbitrarily about the area. The two furnaces installed in the room were unlit, but with a flick of a rusty switch, the fires within were promptly reignited. Lisbeth unfurled the pouch on top of one of the tables, then grabbed a hammer and a pair of bellows.

"Let's see," she muttered as she fastened a pair of goggles to her face and pulled out the recipe. "Mithril and copper smelted together, then molded, then refined… Got it."

The mithril and a bag of copper shavings were deposited into a crucible inside the furnace, and Lisbeth rotated a crank located alongside the furnace, which brought the flames to a roaring, searing blaze. As the mixture melted into liquid, it poured out of an aperture in the side of the crucible and slid into a cast iron pot. Once all the metal had been collected in the pot, Lisbeth tipped the pot's contents into a waiting mold, before running a current of water under the mold to allow the metal to cool.

"Help me pump the water through the mold, if you don't mind," Lisbeth said as she rushed to gather the other materials.

Caenor went over to the water wheel and began to turn it. The red-hot metal soon settled into a dull chrome gray, but before it was allowed to cool completely, Lisbeth pressed a second mold on top of the first. The external mold was lifted after a while, leaving a delicate pattern embossed on top of the metal cast, which was now increasingly taking on the intended appearance of a wrist-guard.

Lisbeth slid an unhandled blade into the slot that had opened up on the topmost surface of the metal, then hammered a spring-loaded retracting mechanism into place. She attached a bronze button via a piece of wire to the mechanism – upon pressing the button, the blade duly sprang out of the slot.

"Once the button is pressed, the interior wire tugs on the latch, which allows the spring to push the blade out," she explained. Caenor and Kirito nodded in unison.

The final touches, which included the gold leaf and red paint, were applied, and as the last of the paint was dabbed onto the surface, the wrist-guard glowed, indicating that its creation as a piece of equipment had been finalized. Lisbeth invited Caenor to equip it, and Caenor gave the wrist-guard a few good shakes, and the button a few good taps. The button, it seemed, not only extended the blade, but also retracted it if pressed again.

"It's excellently made," Caenor commented. Lisbeth beamed at the compliment. "All that's left is for me to start training with it, and maybe a bit of dagger practice alongside it. Hopefully, I'll have some Sword Skills down by the time we really get going – that is, if I can get used to these sorts of weapons at all."

"Not to worry," Kirito replied. "That brings me to the second person I wanted you to meet. Someone who knows the dagger as well as any other player."


	4. Two's Company

The Drunk Ape was, pound for pound, one of the strongest basic monsters one could encounter within the walls of Aincrad. Their ponderous lumbering belied the unusual speed and agility with which they converged upon their prey, and their strength was evident from the sinews that bulged from the considerable muscle mass that covered their body. Like their real-world relatives, the apes of Aincrad tended to become aggressive when you made eye-contact with them; however, unlike real-world apes, Drunk Apes were typically neither shy nor gentle. They constantly skulked the forests, wooden club in hand, scouring the woods for their next meal.

However, as in the real world, no animal was truly an apex predator when a well-prepared human was in their vicinity.

A shadow crept through the canopy behind the trio of Drunk Apes beneath its feet. The shadow was clad in a long robe, with only a thin steel breastplate and small pauldrons to provide any additional protection – an insufficient defence against the brutal swipes of a Drunk Ape at first glance, but a necessary trade-off in the sacrificing of steel for speed. After all, why guard against an attack if that attack could never come close to hitting you?

The branch upon which the shadow knelt creaked. The Drunk Apes stopped in their tracks and looked up.

The shadow made its move.

A silver stiletto was plunged into the neck of the rearmost ape. As it fell, the other two bellowed and beat their chests in fury, in an attempt to intimidate their latest challenger. But the shadow was not perturbed; it had seen this behavior dozens, if not hundreds of times before. As the beasts flailed about, the shadow latched onto their arms, climbing onto their backs. One dagger followed another, and the three apes drew their last breath.

The shadow sighed with relief, and pulled the hood off its head, revealing the face of a dainty-looking young girl with chestnut-colored hair and eyes. The girl could never help but feel nervous about her hunts, regular as they may be. One misstep could spell death, and in this particular game, there were to be no respawns – a fact of which all its players were painfully aware.

She checked the loot she had received from her quarries, then slunk back into the comfort of the shade, away from the auspices of the moonlight. Waiting for her in the darkness was a tiny blue creature, curled up in a ball, purring as its master stroked its head.

"You tired, Pina?" she asked.

The creature chirped quietly, then rolled over onto its belly and continued its siesta.

"Let's head home, then." Pina's master, Silica, placed her dearest friend gingerly on her shoulder, then crept between the trees and out of sight. Another evening well spent.

* * *

Caenor did not know what to think of Kirito's next acquaintance. She was a short, mousey girl with a puffy pair of twin-tails and a constantly expectant look in her eyes, especially when she was staring at Kirito, a phenomenon that occurred once every ten seconds or so. The more she blinked and peered at the object of her affection, the more she looked to Caenor like a small animal. Which was to say nothing of the actual small animal perched on her head, a miniature dragon dressed in beautiful crystalline scales that seemed to share its master's affection for the Black Swordsman, but was understandably wary of his less glamorous lookalike.

"N-nice to meet you," she stammered as she switched her attention to Caenor.

Caenor stuck out a hand, and she shook it vigorously.

"This is Silica," Kirito said. "We met on the 35th floor, after I helped her out of a bit of a pickle. Drunk Apes, right?"

Silica nodded. "I've just come back from hunting them."

"You seem to hunt them a lot. I remember you were also looking for them last week."

"Well you know, I feel like I should help people out by thinning their numbers. They drop some good materials, too. Also, they're how I met you, so…"

"True, but what does that have to do with killing them?"

Silica shook her head. "Never mind. You're Caenor, right?"

"Yes, I am. I hear daggers and other short weapons are favorites of yours."

"I wouldn't say that. It's an affinity borne out of necessity, if anything. I'm not quite tall enough to wield a standard longsword consistently, so I've been using short swords and knives for as long as I remember."

"Her low center of gravity means she can move quickly and dodge attacks easily," Kirito added. "She's definitely a good match for the one-handed dagger. I'm sure she'll be able to give you some pointers."

"I'm looking forward to being under your tutelage. So, what can you give me?"

"Hm…" Silica scratched her head, and her pet leant down to nuzzle against her finger. "That'll depend on how high your skill level is. What's your skill with short weapons? Daggers, throwing knives, or anything."

"Unfortunately, I've rarely used any of those weapons, so my skill gauges for those are pretty much close to zero."

"Then we'll have to grind a bit until you get the gauges up to a reasonable level. No point thinking about Sword Skills for the moment. Tomorrow morning, I'll take you to my favorite grinding spot on the 35th floor. We can start from there."

And so, as the morning of the next day beckoned forth, Caenor made his way down to the 35th floor. It was a floor he would typically have little reason to go to, as his guild usually aimed to send its members to higher-leveled floors or floors with better material drops to boost the guild's coffers. The 35th floor was as average a floor as you could get in any way: the landscape was nothing but swathes of forest, leaving little room for sightseeing; the Drunk Apes that roamed the thicket were, in hunting terms, high risk for moderate to low reward; the loot that the forest's critters dropped consisted of the bare minimum that one might expect of other monsters of a similar level. Mishe, the floor's only town, had once been a hotbed for adventurers, but the unlocking of the higher floors had lured most of the adventurers away, leaving only the nostalgic and the helpless to remain. Clearly there was something that drew Silica to the floor, or she would have long since moved on to greener pastures.

Caenor assumed that it had something to do with Kirito, and he posed the question to her as they entered the forest. Silica blushed, but shook her head.

"I… I like Kirito very much, but that alone wouldn't be enough for me to stay here. After all, it would make more sense for me to join Kirito in the higher floors if I liked him that much."

"Then why?"

"You see, there's someone – or something – that I like even more than Kirito." She pointed at the miniature dragon that had glued itself to her hair, gazing quietly at the treetops and cooing softly. "My Feathered Little Dragon. I call her Pina."

Caenor stared at the dragon's beady red eyes, and instinctively reached out a hand to touch it, but retracted it before he could get too close. "Does it bite?"

"She doesn't, though she's not very trusting of strangers. She's a good judge of character, though. If you're a nice person, she'll let you near her." Silica rummaged in her inventory and fished out a peanut. "Here. This is her favorite food."

Caenor took the peanut and inched his hand slowly towards Pina. The dragon initially shrunk away as Caenor's fingers approached, but upon smelling the treat, Pina poked her head out, sniffed the peanut, and began nibbling at it. Caenor smiled, and sighed with relief.

"Has anyone ever told you that you look like Kirito?" Silica suddenly asked.

Caenor allowed Pina to hold the rest of the peanut in her stubby claws. "Where did that come from?"

"When you smile, you look a bit like him. Although your smile is a little more… sorrowful."

"Thanks for the compliment." Caenor wasn't sure what sort of shape to make with his mouth, now that he had abruptly been made aware of how he looked whilst he was happy. "Though maybe I get what you mean. Didn't Kirito tell you about what happened to me?"

"He did. I'm sorry to hear about your friend. Your friends, rather. One of them managed to survive, right?"

"Yeah. She's in no state to do anything, but she's alive."

"That's good. Keep her close," Silica replied somewhat cryptically. "Keep her as close as you can. As long as there's life, there's a chance to make things right. If a second chance is offered to you, take it with both hands, and don't let go."

What Silica said was ostensibly abstract, yet somehow it seemed eerily familiar.

"Have you watched someone close to you die before?" he asked.

"Yeah, I have. Not someone, though. Not in the sense of a human being, anyway." Silica lifted Pina off her spot on her head and stroked the dragon's head, staring at it forlornly.

"Your dragon?"

"Pina is the only one of her kind that anyone has ever seen. She took a fatal blow that was meant for me… and I would never have been able to live with the guilt of causing her death if Kirito hadn't helped me bring her back to life. It's no exaggeration to say that Pina and I owe Kirito our lives, but I also owe Pina to try and find other members of her species so that they might not have to suffer in loneliness. It's why I come to this floor so often – it's my only lead in my search for other Feathered Little Dragons. That's just one of a few reasons, though."

"What other reasons would you have to come here?"

Silica wordlessly pointed into the distance. Caenor followed her finger, and found a Drunk Ape sitting in the grass, its back turned to them, belching and burping as it took large gulps from the gourd its ilk always carried.

"Kirito says you want to learn how to kill other players. While I've never actually done so myself, I can tell you that Drunk Apes are perfect for player-versus-player target practice. They're tough, surprisingly fast, and move just like bigger humans do. And," she pulled out a dagger and raised it to her chest, "when all is said and done, they have the same weak points as we do."

Caenor equipped his wrist-guards, tightening the straps that fastened them to his arm until they no longer budged. He clenched his hands into fists. The buttons on his palms activated the wrist-guards' internal mechanisms, and the blades sprang into action.

"How confident are you feeling about using those?" Silica asked.

Caenor smiled, and this time, all traces of negative emotion were gone from his features, leaving only a fierce and intense gaze that told Silica everything she needed to know.

"We'll just have to find out," Caenor replied.

* * *

The next few days were spent in a reverie, the sort of mind-numbing trance that only descends upon a person that is devoting themselves fully to the mastery of their craft. When the duo were not performing drills and practicing movements, they were sneaking through the labyrinthine thicket of the 35th floor, prowling across the soft grass, hunting their hulking yet unwieldy prey. The more they stalked the forest, the more certain aspects of their game, and of stealth as a whole, became clearer to Caenor. He learned how to adjust the magnitude of pressure he applied on the soles of his feet so as to make the least noise when his boots touched the grass; how to slide the knife between the bones on a Drunk Ape's back so that its health gauge would drain faster; how to judge the direction from which the next attack might come based on the Drunk Ape's current posture. Of course, no lesson in this game could truly be learned without pain, and Caenor spent many a day rubbing his throbbing backside or flailing about in the crisp afternoon air as the apes mercilessly took their turns sending him flying into the canopy. It was a good thing he stocked up on as many health potions as his inventory would allow at the nearby town every morning, or he would have perished long ago.

"That's it," Silica would say as he thrust his wrist-blade into a nearby tree for the two-hundredth time that day. "Remember that velocity is paramount. You only have a split second to puncture the exposed area, so you have to make each blow count. Twist your torso around to give you extra momentum, but remember to immediately return to your guarding position, otherwise you'll leave your chest and shoulder exposed. Remember that 90% of your style is dodging and avoiding attacks, but it's the remaining 10% that matters most. Extend, retract. Extend, retract."

One morning, as Caenor and Silica were getting ready for their lunch break, a familiar face peered through a gap between a pair of nearby tree trunks.

"How's it going?" asked Kirito.

Caenor glanced at the Black Swordsman, noting that the blue half of his normally ubiquitous sword pair was conspicuously missing. "I see the Dark Repulser isn't with you today."

"It's at Lisbeth's. It needs regular durability checkups, since I use it so much. Probably even more so than the Elucidator," he said as he patted the remaining sword in his sheath.

"Why's that?"

"That's just how I fight. Left is chiefly for parrying and blocking, so the blade in my left hand – the Elucidator, in this case – takes most of the blow, and hence most of the damage. Then, once the initial attack is repelled, I launch counterattacks with my other sword, and let the Dark Repulser join in if I have room. Rinse and repeat."

"Would that work with my wrist-blades? Since they're dual weapons as well."

"Why not? Maybe it'll be worth a try. Here, let me show you."

He took a ruby-hilted dagger from his belt holster and unsheathed his longsword, propping it up in his left hand. "Silica, come here."

Silica stepped towards him tentatively.

"I want you to try and hit me with your dagger. Can you do that for me?"

Silica's eyes widened. "I don't really think…"

"Just do it. You won't kill me, I promise. Just come at me like you're fighting another player."

"But…"

"Silica." Kirito put his Elucidator down and patted Silica's shoulder. "Do you trust me?"

Silica nodded. "With my life."

"Then you know that no matter what you throw at me, I can take it. Now, come on."

Silica's eyes hardened, and she raised her dagger. Kirito smiled and raised his sword in turn, letting the sunlight catch briefly on its surface.

Then, Silica lunged.

Watching the diminutive dragon master in action was like watching a whirlwind up close, tearing through any obstacles in her path with wanton abandon, and the vacuum she left in her wake stole Caenor's breath away. Yet Kirito's eyes seemed to follow Silica's every action, and he pushed his rearmost foot back, allowing his trailing leg to help absorb the blow of Silica's strike. Steel crashed against steel, and a spark flared from the intersection of the two blades.

But there was to be no respite for the attacker. No sooner had Silica recoiled from the force of the parry than Kirito was upon her, his dagger at her throat, staring deeply into her eyes. Silica dropped her own knife and stared back, dazed by the physical and psychological impact of Kirito's counter.

Kirito looked at Caenor. "See? Just like that."

"Right." Caenor raised his eyebrows in disbelief. "Seems fairly straightforward."

"Sometimes the best things in life are the simplest," Kirito continued, seemingly oblivious to Caenor's sarcasm. "And nothing is simpler than the good old one-two. Parry and counter, parry and counter. You need to dumb your technique down as much as you can, so you know exactly what to do in the heat of battle. An enemy swings downwards at you, you raise your left hand and get ready to uppercut with your right. An enemy thrusts a spear, you throw it aside with your left hand and surge forward with your right. If an attack comes in from your right side, you'll have to parry with your right hand, but that'll give you enough time to return to your original stance."

"Wouldn't that weakness be exploited by someone who's good at reading your moves? They could force you to keep blocking with your right-sided weapon, and gradually push you back."

"That's why maintaining a correct stance is so important. If you position yourself correctly, you'll be able to keep your blocking arm ahead of you. Then it won't really matter whether an attack is coming in from the left or right, unless you're not watching your surroundings. And if you're not looking, then you're not long for living, either."

"Even more so for short weapon users," added Silica, who was still rubbing the front of her neck. "Taking even one attack can be fatal, especially if you're wearing light armor. We just aren't built for tanking."

"Now then." Kirito winked at Caenor. "Let's see you try."

* * *

Caenor lay in the shade of the oak, eyes closed as the errant sunlight streaming through the net of leaves above him flitted across his eyelids. Silica had granted him a reprieve for today, as she had her own errands to run, and so he was left largely to his own devices, with little else to do other than whittle the day away on his lonesome.

The visions of the day his life had been irreversibly overturned no longer haunted him on a regular basis, and for that he was eternally grateful. Yet the scars would perhaps never fade – that is, if he wanted them to heal at all. It seemed that his life was now carefully constructed around the fact of his traumatic ordeal, the fact of the knife in his hand that had slid into the throat of his assailant. His training, his new weaponry, his newfound friendships – all of them depended on his ability to kill. Without it, he was nobody, merely another lay member of the guild, little more than one of many players trying to make it out of here alive. But with it, he could be more. He could rise above the hoi polloi and carve out a name for himself: as one who helped those who could not help themselves.

The thought exhilarated him, and rightly so. Yet in order to maintain the passion and drive required for such a task, he could never allow himself to let go of the moment that had triggered his rebirth in the first place. He had to grasp it firmly with both hands, even if it were covered in thorns that might one day bleed him dry.

There was also the matter of Seki. She had finally shown her face the day before, and Caenor had been so shocked by her appearance in the corridors of the guild headquarters that he had to blink several times before he could convince himself that she had truly risen from her self-imposed exile.

"Is that you?" he asked.

"Is that me? That's the first thing you say to me?" Seki chortled, though the laugh seemed to mask a few sobs here and there.

"I mean, I haven't seen you in a week and a half at least. You sure you're okay being out and about like this?"

"Asuna paid me a visit yesterday. Told me that I couldn't stay holed up forever. And honestly, I had to agree. Only way I can get over this is by putting myself back out into the world, even if it kills me."

"I see. Either way, I'm glad. I've missed you."

"So have I." The two of them embraced, ignoring the quizzical looks of the other guild members that passed by. As they released their hold on each other, Seki pointed at the pair of wrist-guards on Caenor's wrists. "Those look really nicely made. What are they?"

"They're mithril wrist-blades." Caenor tapped the button on one of his palms, showing Seki the blade that poked out on command. "Apparently they're real good for player killing, but not so much for fighting mobs – which is why no one really uses them."

"I see." Seki stepped back hesitantly, as if the person before her had somehow transformed right in front of her eyes. "You're serious about this, aren't you? The whole player killer team thing."

"Never been more serious about anything." That was the truth – Caenor had never felt so invigorated in his life. Perhaps it was because he had finally found a singular purpose to which he could devote himself, one that he could truly throw himself into, because there was little else left for him to do. Yet the reluctance that lingered in Seki's tone and facial expression told Caenor that she still needed more time for herself, even if he wanted her to join him. She had been trembling when Caenor had hugged her, and he suspected that the tremors visible in her demeanor would never fully go away.

Not until she could find some sort of closure. Closure that could possibly be provided if she, like Caenor, wished to turn her fear into something more productive. That could wait, however. For now, rehabilitation and recovery were key, and he was merely glad to see her face again.

They traded words of comfort before they left to attend to their own matters. Caenor could still see the back of Seki's figure walking away with a slight limp in the step – evidently her crotch was still strained from the shock of its violation. As long as the body remembered, the mind could never forget. And as long as the blade that punctured his ribs also remained lodged in his memories, the same could be said for Caenor.

Though sometimes it was not the physical wound that cut the deepest. Caenor wondered if Kirito would ever be able to obtain the penance that he sought for the sin of deceiving his comrades and leading them unwittingly to their graves. Even during the few moments where he seemed happy and content, Caenor noticed that Kirito continued to keep his distance, as though his mind were subconsciously punishing him for daring to try and find any semblance of joy in life when the shackles that bound his feet had not yet been shaken off.

Kirito's crusade would carry on for as long as Kirito needed it to. And so would Caenor's.

"What're you doing?" asked a voice.

Caenor opened his eyes. He remembered that he had been looking for a spot to rest after lunch, and as his mind had wandered, so had his feet. The place he was in looked familiar and unfamiliar at the same time, but there was nothing unrecognizable about the silhouette that peered down at him.

"Vice-commander," he said, pushing himself up into a seating position.

"Just Asuna." The maroon-haired maiden smoothed her robes out and sat down next to him. "How go the preparations?"

"I had a look at the information you sent me. Obviously, it would be best to go after the safehouse just outside Granzam's city limits first, but I feel that if we move too methodically or linearly we might alert the other hideouts to our activities. So, perhaps a more scattergun approach to weeding them out might be advisable."

"What do you suggest?"

"Instead of going floor by floor as you have suggested, it would be better to attack the hideouts at random. For example, we might go from the 24th floor to the 59th, then to the 37th, and so on and so forth."

"I see. That makes logical sense. I will leave it to you – once you have a schedule for the operations set up, come to me and we'll discuss things further."

"I suppose I am a vice-commander now, then. Though I don't quite feel like one, and I don't think I ever will. Especially since I'm still reporting to you, and not to Heathcliff."

"Well, you are invited to the vice-commanders' meeting, which is set to happen this Sunday. Consider this my cordial invitation to you to attend."

"I'll try to be there."

"You have to go," Asuna said sternly. "It's your responsibility as a vice-commander."

"I thought invitations were supposed to be optional."

"This is a mandatory invitation." Asuna rose to her feet and turned to look at Caenor, a wry smile now plastered across her sleek features. "You're in a position of power now. Best to look the part."

The vice-commander of Team B of the Knights of the Blood made her way down the hill. The newly anointed vice-commander of a team that did not even yet exist closed his eyes and returned to silent contemplation.

* * *

The conference chamber of the Knights of the Blood's headquarters was the largest of all the rooms in the complex, even dwarfing the armory and mess hall, which spoke to the guild's priorities as much as it did the building's impressive scale. Lay members of the guild were forbidden from entering, even if the room was empty most of the time, though that didn't stop the occasional inquisitive peek through the keyhole. It was thus with no little consternation that Caenor, an erstwhile lay member, found himself standing in front of the great oaken doors, each with the great white cross of the guild emblazoned across their surface, the brass handles on the doorknobs clattering loudly as he placed his hands on them and pushed as gently as he could.

The long banners hanging from the ceiling had been unfurled, one hovering over each tall stone chair. The vice-commanders were seated around the table in the center of the room, turning to face the newcomer in unison as he entered, which only caused even more chills to run down Caenor's back. At the far end of the chamber, sat at the head of the table, was the man who oversaw everything relating to the guild: Heathcliff, the commander of the Knights of the Blood.

The name of the player who seemed invariably clad in his usual full suit of crimson armor had been derived from the character of a well-known novel, though the Heathcliff of that particular story had ultimately consumed himself and those that he loved in a fit of poisonous envy and torturous rage. However, the Heathcliff that the guild members knew and adored could not be farther from his namesake: he was a calm, kindly, and strong leader who had the tactical and martial nous to back up his impressive reputation. His silvery gray hair, sleek features and muscular frame only contributed to his renown.

"I'm glad you could join us," he said as Caenor walked unsteadily towards the nearest available seat and claimed it for his own. "Please, sit."

Caenor peered at the other people present at the meeting, hoping that the heads currently turned in his direction would soon redirect their focus elsewhere. As his eyes met Asuna's, she smiled and nodded at him, which at least provided him a modicum of comfort. The air in the chamber was cold, and the marble that comprised his seat colder still, but Caenor felt that rubbing his elbows to warm himself up might show a lack of decorum, and so he clenched his stomach tightly in a bid to stave off the effects of the dip in temperature.

"Now that you're here, I think we can begin – especially since the first item of today's agenda is to congratulate you on your promotion. Welcome to the club, Vice-commander Caenor."

A brief smattering of applause rippled around the table. Caenor, unsure what sort of expression he should be making, stretched his lips slightly upwards in a half-grin. "Thank you," he murmured.

"The second matter that needs to be discussed also pertains to you. Vice-commander Asuna and I have discussed the formation of a new team for the sake of performing more… specialist missions. I'm sure all of you will be aware of what I am talking about." Heathcliff leaned forward and stared at each vice-commander in turn. "One guild member lost is one too many, regardless of whether that's in a boss battle or elsewhere. We will try to ensure the safety of those under our care as best as we can, whilst making all possible progress upwards through the floors. Our prerogative as a clearing guild is to face forwards unto the end, but we cannot do so at the expense of those who have fallen behind. Is that clear?"

All of the vice-commanders nodded.

"Vice-commander Caenor, I hereby allot you the same powers as those of the other vice-commanders present. You may recruit members for your team as you see fit, including from other existing teams within the hierarchy, though those who you select to enter your team must join purely of their own free will, and with the approval of their team leaders. You will be given an office, from which you will plan attacks and patrols. You should have already received a copy of the list of Laughing Coffin hideouts, which you will distribute to your subordinates. All other details regarding your operations will be left to your discretion. You will continue to report to Vice-commander Asuna for the time being, as she is best acquainted with you and Seki, whom I presume will join your team. She will assist you in searching for reinforcements within our ranks. Understood?"

"Yes," Caenor and Asuna replied.

"Very well. I wish you the best of luck. Now, moving on to the next topic of discussion."

* * *

"That wasn't so bad," Caenor commented as he and Asuna exited the chamber.

"Most meetings are like this anyway, there's never really much more to talk about than raid schedules, boss information, and so on," Asuna said. "Heathcliff doesn't really mince words – he says things like they are. A good skill to have if you're leading a guild as large as ours."

"Well, I know he called us in for a discussion, but it really wasn't much of one. Mainly just him giving orders and us listening."

"He is the best of us, after all. Though he mostly leaves the battles and strategies to the vice-commanders in the end. Anyway, I'll show you to your office."

Caenor's new quarters were located on one of the higher floors in the back end of the building, where activity was often minimal, and the only ones walking past were people who had ostensibly gotten lost in the labyrinth that was the headquarters of the Knights of the Blood. Nevertheless, though it was a spare office, it was an office all the same, and by Caenor's best estimates it was spacious enough to house approximately thirty people with some space to spare. A pair of empty shelves had been pushed against the walls, and two large windows alongside each shelf allowed the light of the midday sun to seep in. In the center of the room was a large desk, and it was towards this desk that Caenor now moved, running a hand along its coarse surface as he approached. He suspected he would be feeling this texture under his fingers more times than he could ever care to count.

Asuna went over to one of the windows, staring down at the players milling about in the streets below. "Your office has a better view of Granzam than mine does. Maybe we could swap," she joked.

"Your subordinates would leave your team if they had to walk five minutes every time they wanted to come see you." Caenor chuckled. "I don't have any such problems."

"That should hopefully change soon. I've asked each of the vice-commanders to scout a member each from their own teams for you to consider. That way, you should at least have enough people for a raiding party by the time you start."

"That's a massive help – I don't think any of them would have listened to my requests, since I get the feeling they still don't quite see me as a vice-commander. So, thanks."

"You're very welcome. Now then, I have a raid to go to this afternoon. I trust you'll be fine on your own."

Caenor nodded. "I'll get started on moving some of my things in here. Which isn't much for now, but I'll still be needing something to write on."

"There's probably a stack of paper in the drawer." Asuna pulled one of the cabinets embedded into the desk open. "There we go," she said, withdrawing a thick bundle of yellowing blank scrolls and heaving them onto the table. "That should do for the time being. I probably have to leave, so you can take care of the rest. Want me to call Seki in for you?"

"Sure. Thanks."

Asuna departed from the office, leaving Caenor alone to stare at the door, with nothing but the hum of activity outside to keep him company. It was a surreal sensation, to have the mantle of responsibility thrust upon one's shoulders at such short notice. A week and a half ago, he would never have been able to even imagine a moment like this.

But then again, a week and a half ago, he had two close friends instead of just one. If this position was his reward for enduring such agony, then he would gladly hand it back if it meant he could see Ferramo again. Some things were just not worth the price.

The day he had met Ferramo and Seki had not exactly been the most memorable of moments. The first floor's Labyrinth had ruthlessly cut the wheat from the chaff, leaving only those who were serious about clearing the game – as well as those who were lucky enough to make it through – to advance to the second floor. The players had gathered in the town of Urbus, the second floor's human settlement, waiting to re-form their parties and make their next moves. The party Caenor had been sticking with had somehow split up after the battle, as new allegiances had been forged in the fires of combat, leaving Caenor alone with little choice but to hope for someone to reach out to him.

That night, as he was eating alone in one of the town's inns, he noticed a shadow creeping over his plate, eclipsing the light from the inn's few lanterns. Looking up, he found himself face to face with a bulky and broad-shouldered figure, who seemed just about ready to bash his head in with the mace he had slung over his belt.

"Can I help you?" Caenor asked nervously.

For a while, the man said nothing, simply standing and staring at him. But when he did speak, the soft and polite tone of voice he used, so at odds with his overall demeanor, shocked Caenor into silence.

"I'm sorry to disturb you," said the man. "I noticed you were alone, and I was wondering if I could join you. You see, I've sort of been discarded by the rest of my party, and I needed to find a new one."

"Oh. Yeah. Certainly." Caenor gestured for the man to sit opposite him. "My name's Caenor. What's yours?"

"Ferramo," the man replied.

"Good to meet you, Ferramo. Well, I'm not sure we'll make much of a party with just the two of us, but it's a start."

"Maybe if we sit here and wait, someone will come over," Ferramo suggested.

"That's not how it works. We have to go and ask people if we can join their party."

"I don't really feel like doing that, to be honest with you. I'm not the greatest at talking to people."

Caenor rolled his eyes. "Then I guess we're not getting anywhere tonight. Anyway, you might as well grab some grub now that you're here."

The two of them sat in relative silence for the rest of the night, occasionally making small talk as they ate. Ferramo, as Caenor learned, was a plumber who had left a terminally ill mother, his only surviving parent, behind in the real world. He had been looking for a distraction from the tedium of both his job and his constant care for his only remaining parent. It was his sheer bad fortune that the first game Ferramo ever played would end up trapping him inside a virtual prison for the foreseeable future, with no way of even contacting his mother or getting her to a hospital. The anxiety about what might happen to her chewed away at him every day, and so he had resolved to clear this game as quickly as he could, so he might be able to return to her before she passed on.

Caenor's own backstory was considerably less exciting. He was an average high school student, like many of the other players here. The few friends he had in real life had not joined the game together with him, which was a significant obstacle in his attempts to be useful to the other players, but at least he did not leave any real regrets behind. He missed his friends and family, and he knew they missed him too, but unlike Ferramo's case it was not of the utmost importance that he escaped as soon as possible. Not a lot to be grateful for, but it could be much worse.

As the night drew on, the inn slowly emptied, its drunk and tired occupants gradually filing out until only two tables were occupied: their own, and another table several feet away. Taking up that table was a single girl, brown hood over her head obscuring her features, trying her best to appear as inconspicuous as possible. It seemed that she had been waiting for Caenor and Ferramo, and so Caenor decided to expedite the process.

"Hey," he called to her.

She pulled the hood back, revealing the feather-light vermilion locks that flowed from her crown. She had an almost elven elegance to her appearance, but she seemed weary and somewhat sorrowful, as though weighed down by the pressures of the circumstances she had been thrust into.

"Are you looking for a party as well?" Caenor asked.

The girl nodded fervently. "My name's Seki."

"I'm Caenor, and he's Ferramo." The two of them stood up and made their way over. "I think we'd do well to stick together. What do you think?"

Seki nodded again. "I'll be in your care."

The trio exchanged handshakes, and so the tale of the three friends thus commenced. It had seemed destined to be a jovial and hopeful story at the time. Who knew, Caenor mused as he returned his mind to the here and now, that the tale would eventually be brought to such a heart-wrenching end. Perhaps they had each foreseen that such a tragedy might occur, but they chose to ignore it for the sake of morale. It would not do them any good to constantly brood on possibility – only the certainty of present reality really mattered.

The door to Caenor's new office opened. The reticent girl he had met on that fateful night stepped in, and the sight of her smiling warmly heartened him to no end. He would have to rely on her in the days ahead, because he knew no others he could trust in the same way he trusted her, and he was sure she felt the same about him.

"Reporting for duty, Vice-commander," said Seki, grinning as she offered Caenor a mock salute.

* * *

Caenor strutted past the new faces standing in front of his desk, his eyes narrowing like a hawk’s as he scrutinized their features. The new faces looked somewhat uncomfortable, but perhaps had there been more of them gathered here they would not need to feel so awkward, even if they were still required to stand at attention in front of the vice-commander.

Alas, that proved not to be the case. In the end, only two people, out of a guild numbering nearly a hundred, had arrived.

“This was as much as we could realistically get,” Asuna had told Caenor as he had gotten ready to meet them.

“Did so few people really want to help with preventing more pointless lives from being lost?” Caenor felt compelled to ask. He was not surprised – in fact, he initially did not expect any reinforcements at all – but the reality of the situation still nonetheless disappointed him.

“Honestly, we had a decent amount of interest, not just from within Team B. Unfortunately, the players that wanted to join your team also had to obtain approval from their team leaders, and none of the vice-commanders wanted to deplete their own numbers before the relatively busier schedule we have in the coming months. So, I did what I could.”

“And only two people from Team B wanted to join me?”

“Two out of half a dozen. We do have a lot of raids to run, and given that I’ve just lost five of my best to this new cause, I can’t afford to thin my team any further – especially if we’re allocated a vanguard role.”

“Unfortunate that you have to be the one making all the sacrifices,” Caenor said, though his tone was noticeably caustic. Asuna did not make any vocal objections to his rebuke; she merely spun around and left his quarters without another word.

She was not exactly wrong to look out for her own team. She had done him a favor that he knew none of the other vice-commanders would have granted in a million years. But, he could not help but feel that the vice-commanders as a whole seemed a little out of touch with the circumstances of the lay members laboring under them, risking life and limb so they might move just a little farther forward through the gloom.

Hunting parties were often more susceptible to unexpected casualties than boss battle raids, as boss battles were usually planned out extensively, with every single boss mechanic expounded in excruciating detail to the participants before they went in. On the other hand, a previously unseen or unreported monster – or worse – might set upon a hunting party that had not prepared for every eventuality. Given that hunting parties usually went to lower-leveled floors, adventurers were prone to underestimating the true scales of their respective tasks.

There was always a significant difference between a battle with a known enemy and a battle with an unknown one. The same difference there was between dodging a lethal attack – thus saving your own life – and failing to do so.

In any case, Caenor was now left to deal with his two new recruits alone. Though Seki had tried to put on a front of being well enough to meet them, Caenor had noticed her legs shaking and told her to get some rest for the day. It was a little concerning that she was still not well enough for combat, but he could not begrudge her the dearth of confidence she suffered from.

He gestured to the first person on the left, a gaunt, brown-haired young man ostensibly in his late 20s who wore creases and wrinkles all over his face – including a hideous scar on each cheek – as if his skin were telling the story of a lifetime’s worth of experiences. “You’re Altorius?” he asked.

Altorius nodded.

“I’m Cantabile, in case you didn’t know,” said the girl beside him. She had black hair with an indigo tinge, shaped into bangs that covered the majority of her forehead. Below that was a piercing gaze complemented by jade-green eyes, freckled cheeks, and ruby lips that were pressed tightly together as she reciprocated Caenor’s scrutiny.

“I know. We’ve talked before.”

“Yeah. And honestly, I’m surprised they made you a vice-commander. You didn’t seem to have much of anything, and you still don’t.”

Caenor ignored her jibe and stared at the list on his desk. Twenty-two coordinates; twenty-two hideouts. Potentially dozens of names to track down and kill, each one hell-bent on staying alive no matter the cost. Not to mention that the more safehouses they eliminated, the more likely the remaining hideouts would be empty. Laughing Coffin were blatant about their desires, but they weren’t stupid – they would be able to tell if they were being targeted. Hence why it was vital that once Caenor’s team got the ball rolling, they did not take too long of a break between each hideout.

It was also imperative that they worked together. Their excursions would forgive no errors of judgment.

“Before we get started, I’d like to know a little more about the two of you.” Caenor said. “I don’t know anything about you beyond your names and a small chunk of your histories, even though we’ve fought together on several occasions. So, I want you to tell me why you volunteered to join this team.”

“I’ll start,” offered Cantabile.

“Go on.”

“I don’t really have an in-game sob story or anything, and I don’t have anyone I care about enough for me to want to avenge if they die. I just can’t stand player killers. They’re ruining the game for everyone else.”

“There’s a lot more ‘ruining’ the game than just player killers, but maybe I see your point.”

“Is there really?” Cantabile queried.

“What do you mean?”

Cantabile leaned towards Caenor, placing her palms on the table as she drew closer.

“Do you know why the people in Laughing Coffin do what they do?”

Caenor tilted his head, as if not quite understanding the question. “Because they can?”

“What kind of an answer is that?” Cantabile recoiled, as though physically disgusted by Caenor’s glib reply. “There’s a lot of things we can do; doesn’t mean we do them. You could hop off the edge of the 55th floor just because you could, but you’re not going to, are you?”

“Yes, but what I meant is that they feel it’s the best way for them to make their way through the game, and if they’re allowed to do it, then they will. They’ve adopted a certain way of life because their perspectives have been warped to the extent that killing other players is seen as acceptable.”

“Let me ask you this.” Cantabile crossed her arms. “What do you think Sword Art Online is?”

“A… game? If you can call it that.”

“You can call it that, because that’s what it is. People came to this game to escape from the real world, first and foremost. It just doesn’t matter to some people that they can’t go back, because of how horrible and undesirable reality is. If you were living in a dump, abused and betrayed by the people you trusted, with no better future in sight, would you really care that you were trapped in a place where you could be something more? And if other people were trying to prevent you from elevating yourself to a higher, better plane of existence, then wouldn’t you want to be rid of them?”

As Cantabile finished speaking, the realization dawned on Caenor that she was talking about herself.

“Is that why you’re so keen on this?” Caenor asked. “Because they’re spoiling your fun?”

“It’s not ‘fun’. This game has given more life to me in one year than the real world has in sixteen. It means more to me than you think. And it’s the same for the people who you’re trying to hunt down. For a lot of people in Laughing Coffin, this game is all they have. That’s why they’re willing to throw progress away for the sake of living the life they want to live, even if – especially if – that means we stay in Aincrad forever.”

“So, why haven’t you joined Laughing Coffin already?”

Caenor anticipated that Cantabile might lash out at him for posing that question to her. Instead, she grew quiet, and her sharp eyes seemed to soften.

“Because, even after everything I’ve gone through, I’m still me. I don’t want to see anyone suffering unnecessarily. Mobs and bosses are part of the game, and I’ve come to take them at face value, even if people die because of them. But Laughing Coffin are selfish, psychopathic, and a needless stain on this world. I’ve decided that I’ll wipe the stain clean, whatever it takes.”

“I… get what you mean.” Caenor could only sympathize with her motivations. How could he not? “Sorry. That wasn’t appropriate of me.”

“If you’re really sorry, then you’ll do what’s required of you.” Cantabile stuck out a hand. “Take care of me and I’ll take care of you.”

Caenor shook her hand and smiled. “You won’t have to worry about that. What about you, Altorius?”

Altorius’ head jerked upwards, as if he never expected the focus to shift to him. Cantabile sighed.

“I think you’d be better off not asking,” she said. “He’s mute.”

“He is? How does he communicate?”

“Sign language, or just simple gestures. I learned a bit of it to help him, though without a full glossary I can’t really converse with him beyond the most basic things. It took a lot of asking him what certain words were in sign language, as well as messaging via text. Thankfully, he’s a fast typer.”

“Then maybe it would help if we added each other as friends, so we could talk to each other properly.” The three of them duly brought out their player menus and exchanged friend requests.

A message popped into Caenor’s view. “Hello, Vice-commander,” it read. Caenor nodded at Altorius, who gave him a half-smile.

“Would you be comfortable telling me about why you want to join us?” Caenor asked.

Altorius began typing furiously, and for a minute all that could be heard in the room was the sound of the holographic keyboard trilling under Altorius’ fingers. Then, Altorius tapped the send button, and a second notification appeared.

“You mind me reading this aloud?” Upon receiving Altorius’ approval, Caenor started to read.

“First of all, I would like to state that I do not share Cantabile’s views on this game," he recited. "I would like for all of us to be able to escape as soon as possible, and I agree that as much effort as is available should be expended towards clearing the higher floors. That being said, eliminating player killers would allow us to maximize the efficiency of the existing community, as the longer their stink is allowed to fester, the more their toxic fumes will sap the strength of the players as a whole. I believe we should sweep through their dens as quickly as we can, so we may be able to return to our primary objective.”

Caenor raised an eyebrow. It was an extremely logical piece of reasoning, even if his lack of personal motivation for the job was of some concern.

“Have you watched anyone die, or killed anyone before?” he asked.

A pause. Then, a third message.

“I have watched people die, and I have also killed someone. Neither were done in this game.”

An enigmatic and unsettling reply, by all accounts. “I won’t press any further if you don’t want me to,” Caenor said.

“I do not mind sharing. My house was burgled when I was a teenager. My parents were attacked first, and I woke up just in time to see them murdered. I ran into the kitchen and grabbed a kitchen knife, but one of the robbers shot me in the cheek from close distance, removing most of my tongue. I managed to kill him and jump out of the window before his accomplices could retaliate, and eventually I dragged myself to a nearby hospital. I have been mute since then, and although I have been blessed with a new tongue by the grace of the creator of this game, it has simply been too long – I have forgotten how to speak, and I have no desire to learn again.”

Perhaps he did have his reasons after all. Still, one thing bugged Caenor about what Altorius had said – or typed, rather.

“Why don’t you want to stay in the game for longer, like Cantabile? It doesn’t seem like you’re having the best time of things out there.”

Altorius’ stony expression shifted into one of unease.

“This game is a mirage, no matter how realistic its design. It is not my reality or my truth. I cannot help but feel at odds with my avatar, even if it has been coded to match my appearance. My newfound tongue reminds me every day that I am not part of this world. Unfortunately, all body parts regenerate in this world – I have tried cutting my tongue off multiple times, to no avail.”

Another message quickly followed the last.

“I want to be in my own body again. That is all I have desired ever since my virtual incarceration commenced.”


End file.
